Hold On!
by Jantallian
Summary: To succeed in any challenge, you need to hold on to your expertise, ingenuity, trust, humour, team-work, care, comfort, common sense – oh, and your temper. Are Slim and Jess up to this, when they find themselves in strange, confusing and totally unexpected circumstances? (Written as a little light relief while working on 'My Brother's Keeper'.)
1. Chapter 1

' _Some bright morning, the sun will shine again,_

 _some bright morning, start all over again …'_

 _J. J. Cale_

Inspired by the 1980s British TV Show, _Now get out of that!_

and with some brief tributes to the late, great Terry Pratchett

who died shortly after this story was completed in 2015

Really In Paradise, I hope!

 **Hold On!**

Jantallian

 **1**

Dawn light filtered slowly through the ragged curtains of the hotel room and crept across the floor to touch the face of the sleeping man on the bed next to the window.

Slim Sherman shook his head groggily without opening his eyes. There were no sounds at all. No birds. No wind. No clattering of Jonesy getting breakfast in the kitchen, no irritable shifting from the top bunk and no cheerful chatter from Andy. Something was wrong. Either that or he had such a monumental hangover it was making him deaf all of a sudden.

He forced one eye open and immediately wished he hadn't. The wan dawn light seemed unbearably bright and he had to blink several times before being able to focus on where he was. The window was in the wrong position. Or the bed was. Was this some joke of Jess and Andy's – shifting the furniture around overnight? He wouldn't put it past them! But the bed felt wrong too. And he was certain the curtains had been in better condition last time he saw them. He stifled a groan as he rolled over with a great effort and peered round the rest of the room.

There was another bed, jammed up in the corner, with a figure sprawled out on it, for all the world as if he had knocked himself out on the wall behind. A black hat hung from the bed-nob. Jess, then.

Slim managed to struggle up onto one elbow and looked again. The Texan had obviously got as far as removing his boots before he hit the sack, but he was still wearing his jacket, which was rucked up round his shoulders in what looked like a very uncomfortable fashion. He was snoring. And he was lying on his gun-belt. _Painful_ , Slim thought, _he'll be sorry in the morning!_ But it was morning. And Jess never, ever, lay on his gun – not unless someone had slugged him first and, in that case, the gun would have gone. Slim wrestled a bit with this problem before giving it up.

He considered for a moment hauling himself out of bed and shifting the younger man into a more comfortable position, but then the snoring got to him. If Jess could snore like that, there couldn't be much wrong! Slim felt around for one of his own boots to chuck at the offending sleeper, but failed to locate them as they were still on his feet. He rolled over irritably and pulled the pillow over his head instead. Seconds later he was fast asleep again.

Jess woke in a rush of adrenaline, struggling furiously against whatever was binding his arms. The violent movement precipitated him off the bed and he fell heavily onto the uncarpeted floor, landing on his gun. This momentarily winded him and the painful impact brought him to his senses. He shrugged his arms back into the restricting jacket, at the same time automatically checking both his wallet and his gun. Clearly nobody had jumped him, despite the feeling he had that he had been slugged hard across the back of the neck. He hauled himself painfully up using the bed as support. Every inch of his body ached, the way it had when that twister had picked him up, dumped him in the debris and flung a barn door on top of him for good measure. Through narrowed eyes, he took in the totally unfamiliar surroundings.

It was obviously a hotel room of sorts, but not in Laramie, he was absolutely sure. The bedding had never been particularly clean, even before he had contribute most of the dust adhering to his clothes and person. The furnishings showed unmistakable signs of fight-damage, which he hoped he had not caused if it was going to cost him. The window was poorly curtained and the light dimmed by the grimy window-pane behind. He limped across and peered out, but the dirt was so thick he could see nothing beyond a blurred outline of the street below, which might have been anywhere. He'd sure like to know what they put in the whiskey around here, wherever the hell 'here' was. It was like some God-awful laudanum dream!

Jess shuddered and turned back to the room, surveying the other bed and its occupant. The sleeping figure's head was buried under the pillow. Whoever it was still had his boots on and Jess recognised the spurs which were currently doing considerable damage to the sheet the sleeper had tried to hitch over himself. Slim then – the darned fool must have collapsed without bothering to pull them off.

 _Jonesy's job to do the mother-hen act!_ Jess grumbled to himself, as he struggled to remove the offending footwear without doing more damage to the bedding or Slim. In the end, he resorted to a savage yank, which had positive results but no apparent effect on the sleeper. Some kind of worry was niggling at the back of Jess's reluctant and woolly mind: _Never known Slim have a hangover so bad you could pull his leg off and not wake him!_

He wandered over the wash-stand, but the water jug was empty. Foiled of a satisfying way of waking his unsuspecting victim, he stumbled back to the bed, shedding his jacket as he went. He gave a half-hearted tug at his shirt and decided against any attempt to get it over his aching head, nearly knocked himself out on the wall as he collapsed again, and just managed to pull out his gun and shove it under his pillow, before stupefying sleep overwhelmed him once more.

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _They should not have woken so soon._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

The sunlight continued to crawl sluggishly across the room, raising the temperature of the dusty atmosphere to that of a warming oven and causing its reluctant inhabitants to stir uneasily. The air became thick and unpleasant to breath. It didn't smell too good either.

Slim cracked open an eye even more cautiously than last time. The daylight had not improved things. In addition to all the drawbacks he had identified before, there was a distinct aroma of boots, dust, sweaty clothes and … cigarette smoke.

"Will you pack that in!" He reached, successfully this time, for a boot and hurled it across the room, spur and all. "You'll set the place on fire!"

"Might improve it some!" Jess retorted, fending off the flying boot with the ease of long practice, and taking a defiant drag at the remains of his cigarette. "What a no-account hole to choose to spend the night in!"

"Yeah, that's the last time I take your advice!"

"My advice? You're the one who's always right!"

They glared at each other in bewilderment and mutual recrimination.

"Where the hell are we, anyway?" Jess demanded.

"I thought you knew?"

"Me? I was only followin' instructions. _Your_ instructions."

"But my instructions were to … to … ?" Slim's statement tailed off into an uncertain question. He struggled to think and then decided it was about time Jess used his brain too. "Look, you tell me what I told you."

"Y' never tell me anythin'," Jess protested, quite unjustifiably. "I'm just along to make sure you don't get yourself shot up, as usual."

"Who's shooting at us? I don't see anyone. Do you?"

"No. And I don't hear anythin' either." Experience and expertise were finally beginning to resurface in Jess's befuddled mind and he didn't like the results at all. "By the sun, it must be mid-mornin'. D'you ever hear a town so quiet?"

Slim listened. After a minute or two, he agreed reluctantly. "No. Did you?"

"Yeah, once. Passed through a little place that had just had a visit from a Comanche raidin' party. It was this quiet. Dead quiet!" They looked at each other bleakly, neither wanting to develop this thought any further.

Slim sat up cautiously and swung his legs off the bed.

"Here, this is yours!" The boot came flying back across the room and he caught it automatically. Standing up to put it on was another matter and, after a couple of wobbly attempts, he sat back down, feeling uncharacteristically shaken. "I don't feel too good," he admitted honestly. "How about you?" He was watching closely the slow deliberation with which Jess had bent and picked up his jacket from the floor and retrieved his own boots. It was quite unlike the fluid grace with which he usually moved.

"Nothin' a pint of black coffee wouldn't cure!" Jess growled.

 _O no! How could I forget what it takes to get him started in the morning!_ Slim prayed fervently that somewhere close at hand would be the requisite remedy, otherwise his life was going to be hell for the next couple of hours. In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he teased "Never seen you with a hangover like this before."

"It ain't a hangover," Jess stated categorically. He waved an arm at the bare room. "No empties!"

"What then? Something obviously happened, even if neither of us can remember what."

"I feel like I've been run over by a stage," Jess admitted with unusual candour. "An' it was goin' hell for leather."

"Me too. Or more likely the stage was going flat out and we got off without it stopping."

"Done that off a train once, if you remember - but not voluntarily."

"Yeah – some trouble with a woman, wasn't it? But why can't we remember anything about this?"

Jess shrugged, pushing the unsolvable problem to the back of his mind until he could do something about it. "C'm on. Let's get that coffee." He slapped his hat on, fished out his gun from under the pillow and walked cautiously across the room, the floor of which seemed disinclined to stay where it was put. He seized the door handle. The door was locked. And the key was not on the inside.

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _Hmm. Interesting. Unexpected even._

 _Your function is to observe. Not comment._

 _I mean the ion-filters are reacting badly to that smoke._

 _Keep the dark one occupied and he won't have time to create any more._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

After several minutes of fruitless bickering along the lines of "Where did you put the key? I thought you had it? You must have dropped it! Have you looked everywhere?" and so on, they were forced to draw the conclusion that there was no key – or if there was, they were certainly not in possession of it.

Jess's immediate reaction was to try to break the door down by shoulder-charging it. As this had absolutely no effect, apart from inflicting considerable pain on his already aching body, he proceeded to reduce the only chair in the room to matchwood in short order by using it to belabour the recalcitrant door. After watching his performance for some minutes, Slim said tentatively: "Jess, maybe it opens inwards?"

"Oh yeah …" Jess had the grace to look sheepish. He turned the handle again and pulled. Nothing happened. "Now what? Window?"

The window refused to budge. They could not open it a single inch. Slim took a firm hold on Jess to prevent him launching another bodily attack on the glass. "We're on the second floor, remember? If you go through that, you'll break your neck!"

"I'll sure as hell break somethin' if we don't get out of here soon!" Jess snarled.

Slim turned visibly pale beneath his tan. The thought of being cooped up with a caffeine-deprived Jess on adrenaline overload, in a small room from which he could not escape, did not bear contemplating. Jess was constitutionally allergic to having his freedom restricted and had been known to bend iron bars and other people's arms in his pursuit of open-plan accommodation. Right now he was prowling up and down the room like a demented mountain lion and was probably about as open to reason.

With quite unjustified optimism, Slim said: "There's got to be another exit."

"There has?" Jess stared at him. "Have y' gone out of your mind? Are y' goin' to use the wardrobe door and find open country behind?" He proceeded to slam back the door in question with quite unnecessary force. There was no country.

"Can we pick the door lock?" Slim asked hastily, to divert him.

Jess pulled out his boot-knife and advanced on the door with a determined expression. He squatted down and was about to insert the knife into the key-hole when something stopped him. He stayed quite still for a count of ten, then he said in a strangled voice: "Well, I'll be damned! Have a look at this, Slim."

Slim looked. There was no doubt about it – the lock did not exist. Where there should have been a hole right through the door with some form of locking mechanism, there was only what appeared to be a solid plate of metal.

"I hate prisons!" Jess lunged across the room, seized the wash-stand and hurled it bodily at the window. It bounced. The window remained intact. "Very interesting," he remarked between gritted teeth. He turned to Slim. "Feel your knife! In fact, try cuttin' an artery, why don't y'?" His own blade hovered dangerously close above his wrist.

"What?" Slim wondered if Jess had finally crossed the border which separates the endearingly reckless from the distinctly insane.

"Feel it!" Jess brandished his own knife in a no uncertain manner.

Slim hastily complied. When he did so, an expression which combined confusion and enlightenment in equal measure crossed his face. "It's blunt."

"Yeah – so is mine."

"But I sharpened it only yesterday morning! At least, I think it was yesterday?"

"Has either one of us ever carried a blunt knife?" The question was laden with contempt, for no one in their right mind would venture out of the house with sub-standard equipment. Then, in less than the blink of an eye, Jess's gun was in his hand. "And I bet if I was to try it, this gun wouldn't fire either."

"Don't!" Slim grabbed Jess's wrist and forced the gun-barrel towards the floor. "This is a small room, huh? Just the two of us? Things are acting up in a very peculiar way? AND YOU WANT TO FIRE A GUN!" he yelled, trying to force some common sense into the angry Texan's head.

"Just sayin'!" Jess growled. "No sense in wastin' bullets, even supposin' it does work. Anyway, I fell on it when I woke up – should've blown my knee off."

"I think you're right – it won't fire." Slim tried to steady his heart and breathing, which never reacted very well in extremely confined spaces to Jess's lightning performance with a gun. "But just put it away, will you? I can think better if you're not waving it around."

"I do not wave guns!" Jess's professional pride was at stake here, but he could also see that Slim, as usual, had the right of it. He slumped on the bed, holstering his useless gun. Just the very action alone made him feel as if someone had amputated something off him without bothering with anaesthetic. Forcing his mind away from this deprivation, he summed up their situation: "We're in a place we don't know, with no memories of how we got here or what we're doin', locked doors that have no lock, windows that don't break and weapons that won't work. You're the thinker – you tell me what it's all about!"

Slim slumped next to him. After a few moments of deep thought, he said cautiously, "It doesn't seem real."

"The door was real enough," Jess assured him, rubbing his aching shoulder.

"But not the way everything is reacting. Whatever we do has the opposite effect to what we expect. As if our normal knowledge and experience are of no use here."

"Or something is makin' very sure they aren't," Jess suggested. "Either that or we're both goin' mad!"

Slim forebode to tell him this was exactly what he had feared only a few moments ago. "We're _not_ mad. And we _are_ going to get out of here!"

"Fine! What do you suggest? Dig up the floor-boards? Gouge through the walls? If everything is as solid as the door and those windows, we don't stand a chance."

"If down and sideways won't work," Slim speculated, "what about up?"

They both raised their eyes to the ceiling. High above their heads was a trap-door.


	2. Chapter 2

' _Some bright morning, the sun will shine again,  
some bright morning, start all over again …'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **2**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _Interesting. They did that in remarkably few moves._

 _The dark one is aware._

 _There is no trace of our observation in the test area._

 _Nonetheless._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

The ceiling was high above even Slim's six foot reach. Too high. Jess had a distinct feeling it was receding as he looked at it. He shook his head vigorously and immediately wished he hadn't.

Slim picked up the fallen, but completely undamaged, wash-stand and examined it carefully. "This looks all right. The question is, will it bear both our weights?"

"You mean, climb up there?"

"Yeah, you can stand on my shoulders."

Slim got no thanks for volunteering to do the weight-lifting. Jess scowled and said, "You know I hate heights."

"You hate locked rooms too. Which would you prefer?" Slim's patience was beginning to be sorely tried, but he struggled to keep calm. There was something about this whole situation that seemed to be stirring up all the wrong reactions between them.

Jess sucked in a deep breath and he too took hold of his self-control. Something seemed to be determined to prod those areas in his mind where he was most likely to react without thinking and then regret it. And if there was another thing he hated, it was anyone trying to sneakily manoeuvre him into doing what they wanted and he didn't. "Sorry." His voice sounded distinctly shaky as he tried to fetch up a grin. "Maybe this is all designed to give you practice in keepin' me in order!"

"I get plenty of that at home," Slim smiled back and slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. "Now get up there before I change my mind and make you do the lifting! And take your boots off first."

This elicited a protesting groan, followed by slow co-operation. Jess, having complied with instructions, found himself balanced precariously high in the air. The atmosphere was even worse near the ceiling – after all, hot air rises – and he had to ignore his stomach's wish to rid itself in short order of the last meal he could not remember eating. Conscious that Slim was bearing all his weight on those broad shoulders, he hastily struck upwards at the hatch. It wouldn't move.

"It's stuck, of course!" He tried to turn so that he could see better how the opening was constructed, but this brought a yelp of pain from Slim and a perilous wobble to their balance.

"Let me down." Slim released his grip on Jess's ankles and the Texan dropped to the floor with a resounding thud, when in normal circumstances, he would have landed as lightly as a cat.

Jess sat on the floor, rubbing his legs, and Slim sat on the wash-stand, rubbing his shoulders.

"It don't open upward."

"Maybe it slides? If you can get your knife into the crack …"

Not long after there was a satisfying click, a strange whining sound and the 'trap door' slide sideways into the ceiling. Jess gave a chortle of triumph and a grunt of effort as he pulled himself vertically upward using just his arms. There was a scrabbling sound and he disappeared into the dark hole which had opened above them.

"You ok?" Slim called anxiously. Heaven knows what it would be like up there, if the room below was anything to go by.

"Yeah, fine!" This was not one hundred percent reassuring, as 'I'm fine' from Jess usually meant he was in need of serious medical attention for injuries recently sustained. This time, though, all seemed to be well until he gave an unexpected gasp, which sounded remarkably like fright, and followed it with "What the hell was that!"

"Jess, what happened?" Slim was dancing with frustration on the wash-stand, totally unable to come to the rescue he presumed was necessary.

"A spider just ran over my hand."

"What? Jess, you are not afraid of spiders!"

"No? Well, this one was the size of a soup-plate and hairy as hell!" He paused and then asked, "You ever seen a tarantula, Slim?"

"Not in Wyoming. So we must be further south." Slim docketed this piece of information, along with the stifling atmosphere, as indicating they might be in the middle of a desert. "Anyway, the bite's not fatal – usually."

"Thanks! I know that. I just ain't very keen on bein' walked over by one in the dark. Throw m' boots up, will y'? It'll give me something to hit it with."

Slim complied, saying as he did so, "Just quit fussing and get me up there."

Jess lay flat on his stomach and stretched out his arms. It was hopeless. Despite the fact that their combined heights had enabled Jess to reach the hatch, they could not now even touch finger-tips. It was obvious Slim needed something more to climb if he was to have a hope of reaching the opening. But even if he stood the wash-stand on the bed and even if it balanced, he would still be a frustrating ten inches short and there was no other furniture in the room to pile up, otherwise he would never have had Jess standing on him in the first place. The thick air was equally thick with furious thinking, after which: "Take off your belt!" two voices said as one.

"Have you got anywhere up there to fasten this?" Slim gave the joined belts an experimental tug.

"No. I'll just hold on. You'll have to trust me."

Jess put his boots back on and braced his feet against the edge of the hatch. It was not an ideal way to take the strain of the climb and he hoped Slim would be quick about it.

Slim hesitated, but there was really no other option. He knew that Jess was perfectly capable of manhandling his weight, because more than once he had been picked up unconscious and carried out of some danger or other, not to mention the occasional fight when Jess had thrown him bodily across the room. But this was sheer vertical pull and there would be nothing but Jess's muscles between him and a nasty fall.

"Ready?" He jammed the toe of his boot into the loop he had made at his end of the belt and made a jump as high as he could. The stretched leather creaked horribly and he could hear more grunts of effort from Jess. He swarmed rapidly up the remaining distance, which seemed to have increased even more, and grabbed hold of the edge of the hatch, hanging there panting.

"Hold on! I've got you." Strong hands hitched under his armpits and by dint of a final strenuous effort on both their parts, Slim slid through the hatch and sprawled in relief on the rough floor of the dark loft.

"Thanks!" they both said together.

When they had got their breath back and put on again both boots and belts, they had as good a look around as was possible in the minimal light. They were left wondering if all the effort had been worth it. Jess said as much, but Slim persisted in being optimistic. "Look, if we were able to get out of the room below, there must be a purpose in this."

"Yeah, so we could die of spider-bites and suffocation up here!" Jess responded gloomily. It was true that the air was even less breathable than it had been below and they were conscious of some stealthy and unpleasant scuttling going on in the immediate vicinity.

"There's a skylight over there."

"What's the bettin' it's unbreakable glass again?"

It was.

"I am not stayin' in here!" Jess stretched up and gave the roof-tiles sloping over their heads a violent blow. Nothing happened. He tried the edge and point of his knife on both the window and the tiles, but what had worked with the hatch was of no avail at all. This effort brought him up hard against the gable end of the building, into which was built the flue of a chimney. Jess's eyes gleamed with sudden comprehension. "No fire."

"What?" It was a question Slim felt he was over-using.

"There's no fireplace down below, is there? So what is a chimney doin' up here?"

"A chimney needs to open into the air."

"Always supposin' they work the way they do in Wyoming. But we'll have to risk that."

"If we can loosen some of the bricks …"

They began scraping vigorously at the mortar with their knives.

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _You intend to permit this non-standard procedure?_

 _We are looking for initiative, after all._

 _But the chimney doesn't go anywhere. It was left over from another time and story._

 _I'm sure you can do something about that._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

Sometime later, on the roof of the hotel, a muffled conversation could be heard, floating up the said chimney.

"I'm going first this time."

"You're not kickin' soot down on me."

"Don't think it'd show up much on you, anyway. - Ouch! -"

"An' with your over-fed carcase blockin' the whole chimney, how'm I gonna breathe? – Aagh! –"

"I'm a better climber than you, you know that."

"If you ain't slim enough to get up there, I prefer pullin' to pushin' when you get stuck."

"I'm not going to get stuck."

"Oh, have it your own way!"

"Better take our boots off again."

Assorted groans and muttering, followed by a prolonged sound of scrambling and heavy breathing.

"Why do I keep feeling I should be wearing a red shirt?"

"Thank your lucky stars you're only carryin' a pair of boots."

"Never could work out why he bothered to climb up again."

"Never did figure a chimney as a way of breakin' and enterin' either."

"Except for wolves, of course."

Despite Slim having gone first, there was nothing to choose between them when they emerged, finally, covered with soot, and found themselves on a flat roof. Jess shook his head again. It still hurt, but not as much now he was in the open air and could see more than four walls around him. He flopped down next to Slim, who had slid to the ground with the chimney stack behind him.

"Slim, this roof's all wrong."

"We're out, aren't we? I thought that was what you wanted?"

"But –"

"Shut up, Jess! I don't care what's wrong with it – I just want a rest."

"But it –"

Some people never learn. Slim lunged round, caught the younger man in a neck-lock and pinned him back against the wall. "One more word out of you and I really will deck you one."

"Leggo! You ain't getting' any rest holdin' me down like this."

"Are you going to shut up?" Receiving a reluctant nod, Slim released his grip cautiously. Jess could be particularly untrustworthy when it came to a physical fight he was losing. This time, however, he just tipped his hat over his face, folded his arms and leaned back against the chimney stack – he looked very much the same as he had on their very first meeting. _And he's probably got a look of martyred patience on his face under that hat!_ Slim thought crossly to himself.

The sun moved sluggishly across the dirty-looking sky. When he deemed that five minutes of peace and quiet had passed, Slim said, "All right, what's eating you now?"

Jess waved a hand, encompassing the entire flat space on which they were lying. "Inside, it was a sloping roof with tiles!"

Slim stood up to look around. "Maybe we came out on the next door –" He got no further because Jess launched a flying tackle and brought him crashing to the floor. From this prone position, Slim demanded: "What was that for?"

"Ain't you got no more sense than to stand up on the skyline when we don't know what we're up against? Just because no-one's gunnin' for us so far …" Jess let the implications of this sink in, before continuing, "I don't care which building we came out on, there ain't a sloping roof for miles." This was something of an exaggeration, but certainly applied to their immediate surroundings. "And another thing, how'r we goin' to get anywhere without leavin' sooty footmarks all over the place?"

"Put our boots back on?"

"Oh – yeah." There were further groans and muttering, followed by Jess grumbling, "I sure hope this is the last time I have to do this!"

"You're going to sleep in them for ever?"

"Like you, y' mean?"

A little silence was broken by a chuckle, then another, and another, which developed into full blown and slightly hysterical laughter, leaving them both gasping for breath and shaking with mirth.

"No chance of getting' off this damn' roof with a man who can't even get his boots off at night!"

"Well, this is a darned sight better than being trapped in a locked room with you!"

"You reckon?"

"I suppose I've got to find you that coffee now?"

"Lead on!"

"A bath would be more to the point."

"There's a water tank over there."

It was a large tank. With complete disregard for the fact that he might be polluting the local water supply, Jess was about to plunge bodily into it. Slim grabbed hold of him once again. It was beginning to be something of a motif.

After a little reasonable discussion and one or two threats, they settled for splashing each other all over with water scooped out with their hats. The sun was well up now and the blistering heat dried them almost as rapidly as they got wet. Soon they were both more or less clean – more in the case of Slim and less in the case of Jess, to whom soot, like dust, seemed to cling with affectionate tenacity.

Then Slim led the way, ducking below the parapet, to the edge of the roof. They looked down.


	3. Chapter 3

' _Some bright morning, the sun will shine again,  
some bright morning, start all over again …'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **3**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _You do realise that this development will affect the outcome?_

 _The trial remains the same. The scenario is irrelevant._

 _We are supposed to keep this within the limitations of their world view and experience._

 _We are supposed to test them to the limit._

 **CTRRTTC**

The town street lay below, exactly as they had expected. More or less. Lazy dust-devils were drifting along it. Sharp shadows of the buildings hid most of the opposite side. On their own side, the worn boardwalk was deserted and the hitching rails empty. There was absolutely no sign of life. Not a wagon, not a horse, not a figure lounging in the shade – and no dead bodies either, which was a relief in some ways.

"How do we get down?"

"There's a drain-pipe here."

"Not more climbin'? You sure there ain't a stair-case?"

"Quit stalling!"

"We're gonna be real exposed against that wall."

"I'll cover you."

"What with? Your hat?"

"For goodness sake, Jess, let's get on with it!"

"Well, I'm goin' first this time."

"You've got a reason for that?"

"I weigh less than you do. If it comes away with your great weight, I sure as hell ain't jumpin' down!"

There was a slight crunch as Jess landed in the street with something approaching his usual elegance. He dodged back into the door of what he assumed was the hotel, just in case. The drain-pipe creaked and there was a rasping sound as the nails holding it began to pull out of the wood. Slim slid rapidly down in a shower of splinters and joined Jess in the doorway, rubbing his hands as he did so.

"Slide-burns?"

"What's hair got to do with it?"

"I said 'slide', not 'side'."

"Huh?" Slim sucked a splinter out of his finger, as he looked around. "Where's the hotel?"

There was no sign of a hotel anywhere up or down the street in either direction. They were sheltering in the doorway of the General Store.

"We were locked up in _the local store_?"

"Better'n the local jail. D'you remember what we're supposed to have done?"

"Not a thing," Slim shrugged. "Come on."

He tried the door of the shop. It opened easily. They went cautiously in. The store looked normal enough – tools and utensils hung on the walls, dry goods and food stuff on the shelves, bales of cloth and sacks of flour stacked in the corners. But there was no sign of life, no store-keeper came out to serve them. Jess ran his eye over the stock, wondering if there were any working firearms on sale. Slim went round behind the counter and, unusually since he was a great respecter of private property, opened the drawer in which the money would be kept. There was nothing in it.

"Robbery?" Jess suggested, looking round his shoulder, since he lacked the inches to look over it.

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so – there's too much dust in the bottom."

Jess nodded in appreciation. He moved to the knife rack and tested several of them with an experimental finger. They were all blunt. And they didn't even feel as if they were made of steel or any metal he had ever come across, they were too light. He picked one up and, with a very little effort, succeeded in bending and snapping it. Some weapon!

"Look at this!" Slim had moved further into the back of the store. Jess ambled over and stared. While the front of the shop was more or less normal, the whole of the back was an illusion, a skilfully painted backdrop, like the kind they had seen in travelling shows, only much less flimsy and more realistically executed on high quality canvas with a strong wooden frame. Baffling as this was, there did not seem to be much point in any further investigation, so they went back out on to the street.

Nothing had changed, except that the sun had moved a little further towards noon. The shadows were still black and potentially threatening. The hot wind still blew dust-devils, loose straw and old pieces of paper down the road. Jess shook his head again, as the baking heat helped to clear his mind; it was something like the temperature he had grown up in.

"I've got a feelin' about this."

Slim waited expectantly. Jess's instincts were fine-honed by a lifetime of hard experience and knife-edge survival. If he felt something, it was probably worth listening to.

"Y' know when you're ridin' a trail and there's an ambush comin' up – y' can feel you're bein' watched? That feelin'!"

"Sometimes it's the way your horse reacts."

"I had a horse. I'm sure we both did."

"It looks as if we'll be walking now, though."

The lack of their horses bothered both of them. Not only did it prevent a swift exit from this town, should that be necessary, but a genuine bond of affection and trust existed between each man and his horse. The first thing either of them would have done on arrival, unless there was a dire emergency, was to make sure the horses were comfortable and safe.

"Which way is the Livery Stable?"

Of course, no-one answered, so they set out in the direction of what looked as if it might be the town square. They had not been walking more than a few hundred yards when another curious feature of their surroundings struck them both.

"Limited ideas about decoration," Slim commented. "Not much taste in colour either."

"Where'd they get that much red paint?" Every single building on both sides of the road was red from top to bottom. The effect was bizarre, as if they had dropped into someone else's nightmare. It was somehow unsettling.

"Looks like someone's idea of hell."

Under his confident self-control and common-sense, Slim concealed a vivid imagination, powered by the wide extent of his reading. "You don't think we d- "

"This ain't hell." Jess, on the other hand, had more than enough traumatic experiences to make imagining the worst something he did not often indulge in.

"What makes you so sure?"

"It ain't hot enough for Texas even!"

A few feet further on it became evident that they were walking through the site of a gun-battle. The buildings were riddled with holes and the glass on several of the windows was broken. After their experiences with the hotel windows, this seemed contradictory. Slim peered through one of them and gave a snort of disbelief.

"What's up?"

"There's no broken glass on the inside."

"Maybe they swept up?"

"Clean up a totally empty room? What for?"

Jess joined him at the window. "This ain't glass at all, it's another fake, made to look like a bullet hit it." He transferred his attention to the holes peppering the surrounding woodwork. "Will y' look at this? No bullet ever made a hole in timber like that – it's gone clean through without splinterin'." He rapped his knuckles against the side of the building. The hollow sound confirmed his suspicions. "This place is just made of some kind of sheet wood, not logs at all."

"Those holes aren't the right size either," Slim pointed out. He stirred the dust on the boardwalk with the toe of his boot. "And there are no cartridge cases anywhere. This was one very tidy gun-battle."

Veterans of a good number of similar battles, they both knew full well that the aftermath was never neat and tidy. The fake nature of the whole thing should have made them feel less threatened, but somehow it had the opposite effect. As they proceeded further along the street, Jess dropped a pace or two behind and to one side of Slim, alert to what was happening on their back-trail and knowing that Slim would take care of anything they might be walking into. How they were to do this with only their bare hands for defence did not appear to trouble either of them.


	4. Chapter 4

' _Hold on, you've got to hold on.  
If nothing is real, I know how it feels, yes I do …'  
J .J. Cale_

 **4**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _Are you still so sure there is no sign of our observation in the test area?_

 _Certainly. What you are noticing is highly trained instinct, acute observational skill and sensitivity to ambient conditions._

 _It looks like reckless, bloody-minded determination to me._

 _The fair one is not reckless. That is what anchors the other._

 _I meant it is reckless to insist on continuing the test!_

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

Presently the explorers came to the town square. It was ordinary enough – a church with a tall bell tower on one side, low adobe buildings on the other three and a well-head in the middle – completely ordinary, provided you happened to be in Mexico, but totally out of keeping with the street down which they had just been walking. For some reason, this caused Jess more uneasiness than anywhere else so far. His first instinct was to duck into shelter and get clear of the sight-lines of anyone in the bell tower. Crossing the middle of the square was quite beyond him and he found himself edging along from building to building as if he expected to be jumped at any moment. The tracks bothered him considerably too. Noticing his cautious behaviour, Slim came over and joined him at the edge of the square. "What now?"

"Well, the tracks are all wrong for one thing. See here – it looks like they were just gallopin' across, then here they come back again, same speed. But this ain't a raid – they're too close together for one thing. And for another –" he paused, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead.

"Yes" Slim prompted.

"They stop. Just here, on the edge of the square. They turn round on the spot and run back again. They did it several times."

"And?"

"Oh, come on, Slim! Work it out for yourself! It doesn't make sense as any kind of manoeuvre. What could they achieve, with such a short run and turnin' before they're out of range of the tower?"

"How do you know they were aiming for the tower?"

"I just know!" Jess sounded defiant and confused at the same time. "And there are too many mounted men – they were just a few …" His voice trailed off. Slim waited, but no more information seemed to be forthcoming. After due consideration, he decided Jess needed distracting – or possibly even relaxing. "You need something to drink," he suggested. "Come on, there's a saloon in the street opposite."

They crossed over, despite moaning and muttering from Jess along the lines of 'I hate town squares!", and found themselves outside the usual bat-wing doors. Not a sound came from within and the air hitting them in the face had none of the usual overtones of stale beer, tobacco smoke, cheap perfume and lamp-oil. Inside it was, predictably, deserted. They approached the bar and, as they did so, there was a piercing "miaow!" which caused them both to jump out of their skins. A big ginger cat stood on the bar. It stalked along to meet them, then leapt to the floor and headed for the stairs at the back of the saloon, which obviously led to the rooms above. It paused on the second step, waving its tail and purring loudly.

"See what the beer's like," Jess suggested as he followed the cat up the stairs. Slim stared after him, perplexed, but not unduly alarmed. Cats, after all, were pretty commonplace, even if it was the first living thing they had encountered.

Jess trod quietly up the stairs, trying through ingrained experience to avoid making unnecessary noise. He had almost reached the top when the cat turned into the corridor to the right. It paused and looked back at him. He could have sworn there was a grin on its face. Whatever its feelings or motivation, however, all he knew for certain was that it suddenly faded into the dark, its grin seeming to linger on the shadows for a brief while.

He started along the corridor, which was almost pitch-black, the only light being from one of those grimy windows at the far end. He felt as if he was no longer in the saloon, but in a much smaller, private house. For one thing, this corridor did not have enough rooms. He tried the doors as he went along, finding only perfectly normal bedrooms, although they had the air of having been abandoned for some time. As he approached the end of the corridor, Jess became more and more uneasy, which was a reaction, he realised, to what he was hearing. From a room at the far end of the corridor came a familiar sound: a rocking chair was being rocked creakily on a bare board floor. As he listened, the sound seemed to gather speed, as if the person was rocking the chair faster and faster, more and more violently.

Jess stood outside the door, his hand outstretched to the handle. He was uncertain what would happen if he knocked, so he gently turned the handle. It was locked. The moment he tried to turn it, the sound of rocking stopped and he felt a cold, malevolent presence motionless on the other side of the door. From somewhere, a chilly wind, smelling of decay and salt, swept over him. He heard the distant sound of hoof-beats struggling in panic and a horrible, wet sucking sound.

Quite deliberately Jess turned his back and walked away down the corridor. Reckless, courageous and impetuous as he was, he had a finely tuned instinct for a no-win situation. He recognised here something which was not only out to get him but would inevitably succeed if he gave it the slightest opportunity. He hoped fervently that Slim had found some strong drink!

Slim was leaning on the bar, stroking the ginger cat. His expression did not suggest any success in the department of fortifying alcohol.

"Don't tell me – they water the beer?" Jess said resignedly.

"It _is_ water," Slim told him. "And smell this." He proffered an opened bottle of whiskey. It was the right colour, but the fumes of alcohol which should have been rising from the bottle were non-existent.

"You didn't drink any?" For some reason, Jess was certain that this would be a very bad idea, although he could not have said why.

"Are you kidding?" Slim up-ended a glass of beer over the bar and they watched the water drip away in a manner quite unlike the strong, yeasty fluid they were accustomed to. "What was upstairs?" Slim enquired curiously.

"You don't want to know," Jess replied briefly, and before Slim could cross-question him any further, added: "Let's get out of here. It's a dead-loss as a saloon, that's for sure."

"There's a café opposite," Slim pointed out. "We could investigate it instead?" He picked up the cat and cradled it in his arms. "Come on, puss – maybe we can find you some boots on the way." The cat, however, had ideas of its own and, with a warning yowl and a parting scratch, deserted them before they were even half way across the street.

On the far side of the road, the café's chintz curtains and flowers in the window suggested some feminine influence, but, as they were now beginning to expect, there were no staff or customers. They stood just inside the doorway, surveying the layout of the room. Along the centre ran a long buffet table, laden with every kind of food imaginable. Round the edge of the room were smaller tables, ready laid and waiting for diners.

Slim frowned. _Why did the phrase 'unsuspecting diners' jump into mind?_

They advanced cautiously towards the central table. The richness of the food and the variety struck an incongruous note and oddly, as Jess observed, "it ain't got no smell." At that moment, his foot accidently struck against something protruding beneath the long table cloth. It moved with a rattling sound which was somehow familiar. Both men froze, locking glances across the table between them. Then Jess bent down and raised the concealing tablecloth.

Very, very slowly, he lifted his head and looked at Slim again. He seemed as if he was mastering the urge to throw up by sheer power of will. "Have a look under your side," he suggested.

Slim dropped to his hands and knees and, as he did so, put his hand down on something small and circular, with a sharp edge which pressed uncomfortably into his palm. Irritated, he picked up the object without bothering to look at it and dropped it into his vest pocket for safe-keeping. He looked under the table and gagged suddenly.

Jumbled all along the floor for the length of the buffet were the bones of a large number of people. Scraps of ragged flesh still hung from them and they showed signs of the teeth and claws of more than one powerful predator.

"Doesn't say much for the cook!" Jess remarked.

"Oh, no – it's not the cook who is to blame," Slim told him, "but don't, whatever you do, touch any of the food on the table!"

"Ain't aimin' to," Jess retorted. "It puts you right off your appetite."

 _That's a first then,_ Slim thought in passing: Jess's appetite was rarely known to be put off by anything which was remotely edible. He strode rapidly across the room and, after a little rummaging round, found, in a corner closet, a broom.

"You goin' to do the housework for them?" Jess asked sarcastically. "I mean, I know they ain't any great shakes at sweepin' up, but – " The expression on Slim's face was enough to stop him.

"Back off to the door," Slim ordered, sounding strangely nervous. "And if necessary, run like hell!" Surprisingly, Jess did not argue or even ask why. When they were both ready to make a swift exit, Slim slowly extended the broom and swept some of the food off the table.

There was an instantaneous reaction. The café suddenly grew dim and shadowy. The ceiling seemed to rise far out of sight and in its place the room was covered with huge, dark wings. Metallic feathers beat the air and a foul smell descended from them. The air was full of hideous screams, which seemed to be partly in some human language. Grotesque shapes tore and trampled the food on the table, fouling it with their noxious droppings.

When they were both safely outside the door and standing in the middle of the street once more, Jess remarked, "No wonder the cat wouldn't come in. Met its match when it comes to chasin' those things."

"Yeah, I reckon so." Slim was more shaken by the success of his guess than he liked to admit.

"Old fashioned vultures, those harpies, and same kind of habits when it comes to eatin'," Jess observed.

Slim eyed him in surprise. "I didn't know you had a classical education?"

"I don't. But just because I don't read too much, don't mean I ain't done a heap of listenin' in my time. The best stories stay in your mind." He grinned and added, "Good job you have, though. You did the right thing with that table."

"I'd rather have seen three bowls of porridge on it, I can tell you," Slim assured him.

"Too right – you know where you are with bears."

"Let's find the Livery Stable!"


	5. Chapter 5

' _Hold on, you've got to hold on.  
If nothing is real, I know how it feels, yes I do …'  
J .J. Cale_

 **5**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _You have arranged a livery stable?_

 _Correct. The contents, however, are not correct. There seems to be a malfunction in the system._

 _What do you mean?_

 _As you have just seen, alterations to programming have created a self-sustaining crossover syndrome._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

The Livery Stable was at the far end of the street, on what should have been the edge of the town. The surrounding countryside, if it was countryside, had the nebulous appearance of a mirage or a blurred reflection in a mirror and they are unable to make out any details of where on earth they might be. The stables themselves, however, were normal enough. There was a corral in front of the large barn, bales of hay stacked to one side presumably waiting to be taken in, some tools leaning against the wall, a water-trough which actually contained water, even a number of white doves, cooing on the roof.

Inside, once again, it was the usual story. If the barn had ever contained horses, someone had cleaned up most meticulously after them. Even Jess could not find so much as a single hair caught on a partition and there were certainly no hoofmarks, harness, feed-buckets, droppings or anything else which might suggest equine occupation. This was depressing. Nevertheless, they searched the whole place thoroughly just in case, though 'in case of what …' was not entirely clear in either of their minds.

Jess snarled angrily: "If someone's touched my horse or my gear, I'll rip their head off!"

Slim wholeheartedly agreed with the thought, if not the proposed course of action. He was disconcerted not to find Alamo – after all, they must have got here somehow. Presently they made their way out of the back door of the barn, into the yard behind.

"This cannot be real!"

The yard was entirely covered in a hard, black substance that reflected the light of the sun. Painted on this, with an uncanny accuracy and precision, were rows of white lines, all exactly the same length. In between the lines stood a number of wheeled carriages, the like of which they had never seen before. Beyond a low wall, the town appeared to continue in a series of mighty towers, their faces glittering in the dusty sunlight as if they were entirely made of glass. Above them, the sky was cut by trails of smoke, at the end of each of which they could just make out a tiny, silver arrow-head.

"Those sure as hell ain't birds!"

"But these must be some kind of transport." Slim approached the strangely shaped boxes with his usual caution. He was fascinated, but not in a hurry to find out there was something lethal about them. They were made of metal, with strong glass windows, and there were individually shaped seats inside. The doors on nearly all of them were locked, but he did find one where some careless person had omitted this elementary precaution. Of the two of them, Slim was always the most interested in what made things work. Jess, on the other hand, didn't care too much as long as they actually did work. Slim slid into the seat and looked carefully at the interior of the strange carriage, trying to figure out from the various dials and levers exactly what it was intended to do and how. His investigations were interrupted by a call from Jess.

"Hey, look what I've found." Leaning against the back wall of the barn was a sleek black contraption with only two wheels. Jess pulled it into an upright position and wheeled it into the centre of the yard.

"It's got a saddle." He swung a leg over the machine, settling himself rather less comfortably than in a western riding saddle. He found that his hands naturally fitted into two grips on the bar before him and if he moved them the front wheel turned. Being Jess, he immediately began to experiment with the knobs and levers on the bar. He gave a shout of surprise as the machine instantly roared into life, emitting a cloud of blue smoke and shaking like a mustang under him.

Slim, who had been watching these antics carefully, strolled over and turned a small key on the bar. The noise and shaking stopped instantly.

Jess's eyes gleamed; he recovered from his fright at once in the excitement of the new possibilities before him. "It must be meant to ride!"

Slim ran his eye over the various wires and connections. "Those are brakes on the wheels and you operated them by pulling this." He pointed. "So this lever must be connected to whatever makes it go. No - hold on - Jess -!"

But it was too late - Jess flicked the key again and pulled the said lever.

 _I walked right into that one_ , Slim reflected ruefully, praying at the same time that Jess was not going to inflict catastrophic damage on himself or the machine.

The contraption rolled gently forward, then gathered speed rapidly as its rider became more familiar with the experience. He had a horseman's sense of balance, of course, but this proved the makings of his come-uppance when he attempted to execute the kind of on-the-spot swivel turn he would expect from a horse. The machine was far less flexible. The front wheel turned at right angles and the rest slid sideways in a spectacular skid. Jess continued traveling in a forward direction to measure his length on the ground, sliding several feet face down before he came to rest.

Slim sighed, walked over and picked him up, which was something he knew was guaranteed to annoy Jess. In this instance Slim felt he had richly deserved it. Retrieving the black hat, he swatted the in-ground dust from Jess's body and observed: "Your face is bleeding."

Jess pulled off his bandana and mopped up the blood, refusing Slim's offer of a clean handkerchief: "Save it for something worse later on."

Together they righted the machine, Slim firmly encouraging Jess to put it back where he'd found it.

"We might need it for a quick escape," Jess suggested hopefully. He looked exactly like an appealing puppy deprived of its favourite bone.

Slim regarded the tyre marks and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "All fifty feet of an escape?"

A truculent expression clouded Jess's face. "Ain't nothin' I can't ride!"

Slim's other eyebrow joined the first, but he did not say anything. Jess ducked his head and looked away. He gave a self -mocking grin as he had to admit more honestly: "Eventually!"

"But you don't have time to learn now," Slim reminded him.

"Wish we could take it home!" The puppy looked more like a full-grown wolf on steroids at this prospect.

 _Heaven forbid!_ Slim thought to himself. _Jess on the loose with something that powerful – don't even think about it!_ Marshalling his arguments against the persuasive wheedling which he could see hovering on his companion's lips, he growled sternly: "Well you can't have it. If you got it home, we don't know what kind of fuel makes it run. And Traveller would hate it. And anyway," - a final clincher as far as he was concerned - "it belongs to someone else."

"You would say that!" Jess grinned and punched him on the arm affectionately. He gave the black steed a final, longing look and turned away. They began walking back along the outside of the barn. There was still no sign of another human or any horses. What they did encounter surprised them both very much.

As they approached the corral at the front, they heard a strange grating, rumbling noise coming from inside the barn. Jess dived behind the nearby water-trough and Slim flattened himself against the barn wall behind the hay bales. They were both reminding themselves that, not twenty minutes earlier, they had thoroughly searched the completely empty barn. Now, through the open doors, they could see something moving. After their encounter with the harpies, they were not in a hurry for a face-on confrontation with anything.

What they saw was a barrel-shaped object about five feet high and tapering at the top, which had some kind of mesh with thin bars all round this part of it. The thing appeared to be made of metal and to move on concealed wheels, from which the grating sound was emitted. Obviously some component needed oiling, probably due to the hot and dusty desert environment of the place. From the front of the barrel two sticks extended horizontally, but these did not have the appearance of the levers on the carriages they had just left. Before they had even begun to think what this strange object might be, it proceed to demonstrate firstly that they were right to take cover and secondly that any attempt to mess with the 'sticks' would be a seriously bad idea.

From a nearby roof-top, a dove chose this moment to drift down into the corral in search of something to peck. The barrel-object rotated quickly and there was a crackling sound accompanied by a flash of light from one of the sticks on the front. The charred bird dropped out of the air and thudded to the ground in a burst of blackened feathers.

The thing remained still in the middle of the corral, although the top part rotated slowly this way and that, for all the world as if it was looking for something. Slim decided to take a chance. He leapt from the now clearly dubious shelter of the hay bales, crossed the open space and joined Jess behind the water trough. The beam of lightning crackled after him as the thing swung in his direction and they felt the bolt of energy strike the metal trough immediately above them. A neat hole appeared in either side and the water began to splash gently down on them.

"I thought so. It reacts to movement."

"Does that mean it's alive?" Jess suggested dubiously.

"I don't know." A frown creased Slim's forehead as he wrestled with this new problem. "It could be. Or it could be something invented, created to do things we'd never even think of."

"Well, I think it's a bad idea, lyin' here gettin' a free shower-bath!" Jess contributed. "But it's a mean lookin' thing. I don't fancy that rollin' up the street behind me."

"If we can get some ropes from the barn, I think I know how we can deal with it."

"In that case, we'd better confuse it. You go one way, I'll go the other."

"Ok – I'll go for the barn," Slim volunteered.

"No, y' won't," he was told firmly. "If there's another one in there, I make a smaller target than you – an' I don't have a brother to get home to."

"Yes, you do," Slim said softly under his breath, but aloud he had to agree with this hard logic. On a count of three, they dashed in different directions. The metal barrel was clearly nonplussed by this and by the time it had worked out which way to fire, neither target was in range. There was not, fortunately, another one in the barn, at any rate at the moment.

The ropes safely obtained, there was a double hiss of hemp against air and the strange object was securely anchored to the corral fence at two opposite points, having entirely failed, for a second time, to decide which of the moving targets to fire on until it was too late. Another couple of throws later and there was no chance of it moving in any direction unless it had some very helpful friends.

"You don't think there's more of them, do y'?"

"No idea. Maybe."

"It was pretty noisy. I guess we'll hear them comin' before we see them." Jess made as if to climb over the corral fence.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Slim demanded.

"I thought we might tip it over - see what's inside."

Slim considered this proposition but rejected it. "No. Someone might own it and it looks like an expensive bit of equipment."

Jess reluctantly conceded that it was probably better not to satisfy his curiosity. As Slim had pointed out often enough, one day it was going to get him killed. He did, however, reach under the bars and pick up the cremated bird. At his movement, the stick-like weapon on the thing jerked and it tried to turn in his direction. The corral fence creaked loudly and they heard again the strange mechanical rumbling sound. Fortunately both the ropes and the fence held.

"More powerful than it looks," Slim observed.

"I still reckon we'd be better tippin' it over. There's no way it'd get up in a hurry."

"We'll use that tactic if we meet another one. This one isn't going anywhere in the immediate future."

Jess put the bird down gently in the shadow of the fence. He wiped his hands absently on the seat of his pants as he considered the implications of this small death. "There was no reason to kill it. Thing so little couldn't possibly be any threat." He sounded grim, as if some kind of challenge had been issued to his integrity. "Unless it was just to show us that, even if half of this ain't real, we could still be killed?"

Slim regarded him with a mixture of anxiety and affectionate respect. Jess, in this mood, could be unpredictable and dangerous, but the principle of not causing unnecessary harm to innocent beings was one with which Slim whole-heartedly agreed. As for the threat of immanent death from sources unknown, there were very few things either of them could do about that. He picked up a spare coil of rope and hitched it over his shoulder. It was as well to be prepared and this seemed to be one area in which his skills could actually be used to good effect. It would not be long before he found out how true this was.

"Come on. There has to be a way out of this!" Another truth about to be experienced – but not in the way he intended.


	6. Chapter 6

'' _Hold on, you've got to hold on.  
If nothing is real, I know how it feels, yes I do …'  
J .J. Cale_

 **6**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _That little piece of action is causing the servo-motor to burn out on our only viable specimen!_

 _Abort the programme to prevent further damage to features and equipment._

 _I told you – it is self-sustaining. There is no option but to let it run to its own conclusion._

 _Including the current test team, I suppose! Is there no way to extract them?_

 _Not intact. But then, that may be the outcome whatever we do or don't do._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

"Whatever we do or don't do, we arrive back where we started!" The air bristled with irritated direction sense and baffled expertise as Slim and Jess found themselves, for the fifth time, back at the square and entering it on the road down which they had originally walked. They had tried several different routes, but every street and alley led straight back to the same place.

"It's like some kind of maze we can't see."

"An' like someone's havin' a lot of fun at our expense!" Jess said savagely. "I aim to get out, not play games all morning, walkin' in circles for someone else's amusement."

Sensing the 'I hate being locked up' syndrome on a much larger scale, Slim hastened to divert the conversation into safer channels, at least until Jess could find something tangible to take out his anger on. Because he still refused to walk directly across the square, they had come to a halt in the shade of a lean-to adobe cantina, where a clay wine-jug and beakers waiting stood on a low table. There was, of course, no wine.

"Are you thirsty?"

"No point in bein' thirsty, is there? There's nothin' to drink." One of the useful survival skills Jess had acquired was the ability to set aside adverse physical conditions about which he could do nothing; part of his mind simply shut down certain demands of the body.

"No, I mean are you actually thirsty?" Jess shook his head and Slim followed it up with: "And I bet even you aren't hungry either?"

"You mean, layin' aside the things that've put me off my food? No, I'm not."

"And we've been at this … this activity, whatever it is, since dawn?"

"More or less."

"And we can't remember when we last ate or drank?"

"An' we woke up with one hell of a hangover that wasn't from whiskey – yeah, I see what you mean!" Jess thought for a moment, then added in tones which suggested some uncertainty: "Just as long as you're not tellin' me I ain't real … or that I'm turnin' into some kind of machine."

Slim regarded the devil-may-care glint in those bright blue eyes, the steely determination in the jaw-line, the impudent twist of the dark brows and the shadow of the bruise forming round the cut on Jess's cheek-bone. He reached out a finger and touched the still-drying blood: "I'm afraid you are definitely real, even if the Almighty did give you a head harder than any machine! But this just confirms there's something very odd is going on."

"No kiddin'? You mean you only just noticed?"

Slim ignored this sarcasm. "Just a minute, I want to check something." He headed across the square and into the street with the saloon and the café. Jess followed him reluctantly, complaining "I can't see why you want to go in there again!" as Slim pushed open the door of the café. Jess remained in the street close to the doorway, poised to rush in and drag his companion out should this become necessary. Moments later, Slim reappeared, looking pleased.

"What is there to grin about?" Jess demanded irritably.

"Just as I thought – it looks exactly the same way as it did when we first went in."

"Those birds made one hell of a mess!"

"Well, it's not there now. Things have repaired themselves – not like reality at all. Have a look for yourself."

"I'll take your word for it." Jess had no wish ever to encounter a harpy again, which was, all in all, one of his most sensible reactions so far. He was about to increase this score by a factor of one.

"What about the saloon?" Slim suggested. "You want to check out what you found up –?"

"No!" The word was torn from Jess's throat with all the force of a scream. At the window above the saloon, he thought he had caught a flicker of black. Someone was watching. He almost looked up to see who it was, but, suddenly, an in-built warning came to the rescue to prevent him. Like most of his era, he was well familiar with the Bible. Across his mind flashed, in letters of fire, a saying he had heard often, yet which felt as if, this minute, he heard it for the very first time: "I will punish the sins of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me." Despite knowing full well that he was not in fact a father, he had all the instincts of one – and protecting the younger generation, including those yet unborn, rated very highly amongst them. He grabbed Slim's arm and forced him to turn away from the saloon.

"Just start walkin' back to the square and keep y' eyes on the ground!" he hissed.

Slim dropped his eyes immediately and whispered back, "Which way?"

"Any damn' way you like – it makes no difference, because we'll end up there anyway - but don't look up!"

Soon enough they were back where they had started again. Jess heaved a sigh of relief, feeling that some kind of oppressive cloud of darkness had been lifted from them. The sun actually seemed to have come up again, although this was clearly impossible. So too, he noticed, was the position of the shadows. He squinted at the bright expanse of the square, which was bisected by the long shadow of the bell tower. "Notice something?"

Slim followed his stare. "The shadow hasn't moved." He considered the implications of this. "If time has stopped, do we have more or less time?"

"In order to get out of this place, you mean? I'd say we have exactly as much time as if we were dead - infinite!"

"But we're not, are we?" Slim's imagination had kicked in again.

"I keep tellin' you that! You ain't seen me sprout wings yet, have you?"

Slim scrutinised him carefully. "No. And your halo's missing too."

"Guess I must be destined for the other place then," Jess told him laughingly, "and that's surely gonna be a lot more lively than this!"

"You don't count tarantulas, disappearing cats, manic birds, a killing machine and whatever is upstairs in the saloon as being lively?"

"Not in the scale of things," Jess replied. "War's a damn sight worse – as you well know. The only problem here is we have no idea what might happen next."

"And we're somewhere where time doesn't operate properly."

"Or someone is preventin' it."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep feelin' it. Like someone's treadin' on my shadow all the time."

"Especially here, in this square?" Slim was watching Jess's reactions carefully.

"No – that's something else." He was clearly struggling to find a coherent explanation. Slim waited patiently. "I keep feelin' I've been here before. And that I should be doin' something different when I'm in this square."

This did not seem either to help or to explain much and it certainly didn't make Slim's next suggestion any easier to accept. "Look, I know you're not going to like this, but we ought to get up that bell-tower."

Jess stiffened, then nodded slowly. "Good viewpoint. Highest place around. Should be able to see everything there is to see." This turned out to be quite accurate, but, again, not in the way they thought.

Once having decided on this course of action, Jess forced himself to walk out into the square and across to the church, all the while expecting to hear the thunder of hooves behind him and to feel a bullet between his shoulder-blades. But no such thing happened. The bell-tower had a separate entrance and staircase, but he paused for a moment by the church door. His hand was on the latch and Slim could see his lips moving, as if he was murmuring something repetitive to himself. This lasted only a few seconds before he turned away, an expression of deep concern shadowing his face. Slim was beginning to wish he had not made his suggestion, but there was no going back now.

The inside of the tower was like any other they had ever been in. The steps spiralled up clockwise, giving anyone right-handed coming down the advantage as far as drawing their weapon was concerned. There was very little light once the doorway was left behind. The air was thick with dust and nearly as suffocating as the hotel loft had been. Faint creaks and stirrings came from above. The feeling of an armed reception at the top was almost overwhelming both of them, reducing their progress to a stealthy and soundless crawl. Yet when they finally came out into daylight again, there was no-one there.

The view was certainly comprehensive, but this was not the first thing to claim their attention. There were no bells. The top of the tower was circular, despite the building being square. It was not open to the air either, but enclosed by a circular window made of uninterrupted and apparently unsupported glass. In the centre was a pillar surrounded by a table whose surface was covered with multi-coloured dials and buttons. Around the edge under the window was another table, circular, following the curve of the wall and, again, full of what was obviously complicated machinery. Wires ran from one section to another and a faint humming sound filled the room.

Slim took one look and yelled: "DON'T TOUCH!" Jess gave a guilty start, hastily shoved his thumbs into his belt and leaned against the doorframe, contriving to look nonchalant. Slim wondered whether he should apologise for his peremptory behaviour, but decided that the danger justified it. Anyway, Jess did not seem particularly concerned; he was just scanning hard and thoroughly around the room.

Slowly and carefully, Slim walked right round the circle, taking in the complexity of what he was viewing. It had clearly been arranged for a particular purpose and he was sure this was to control something – he just had no immediate idea what. On most of the machines lights glowed softly or ran in a sequence of varying patterns, but the place had obviously not been used for some time. There was a thin layer of dust over the surfaces. In the places where the dust had been disturbed, there was marks, prints of some kind. It was on these that Jess was now focusing.

"What do you make of it?" Slim asked him.

"Never seen prints like that," Jess replied at once. "Look like hands, but not any I've ever seen. They're webbed. Three fingers and a thumb. The fingers are much longer even than yours. Looks as if they end in a pointed nail – or a claw." His own hand hovered over the prints, comparing the size. "Either they have very big hands for small critters – or they're near double my size."

"Size doesn't usually bother you!" Slim smiled, remembering numerous conflicts in which men twice his weight and with considerable advantage in height had made the mistake of taking on Jess. Jess continued his scrutiny and said, "Anyway, they were here some time ago." He pointed to the thin silver threads of a spider's web which overlaid the prints in places. "Let's look at what we came up here for."

The view from the great window gave them more food for thought. For a start, it was circular. The entire landscape gave the impression they were standing in a saucer, with a circular horizon running all around them. The town they had been exploring had little depth and all the streets consisted of one line of buildings, many of which looked like fakes. More than this, the horizon blended into a dome which continued quite clearly overhead, like an enormous bubble or umbrella, completely enclosing the 'town', which they now saw was not one distinct place at all, but a series of semi-discrete areas running into each other. Right in front of them, for instance, was what could only be sea-coast, with raging waves breaking against unforgiving-looking cliffs and two tall-masted ships manoeuvring around each other in the narrow confines of a bay.

"Remind me not to go in that direction!" Jess looked green at the mere thought.

"Don't tell me – you don't like boats?"

"I hate anything that ain't rock-solid dry land – and so would you, if you'd ever been on one."

To distract him from such gloomy experiences, Slim directed their attention to the next section of the landscape. Further round the horizon they found themselves looking at a vast, unbroken sheet of ice and snow. You couldn't hear the wind cutting through everything which had the temerity to stand up before it, but you could imagine. Jess took one look and gave an almighty shudder. Slim remembered his positive relishing of the desert heat outside and how hard he always found winter in Wyoming. He sighed. "And of course you can't stand ice and snow either?"

"Why should I? What's there to like about it?"

Slim appeared to be engaged in some kind of mathematical calculation. As a result he pointed out: "So far we've had _I hate prisons, heights, tarantulas, town squares, the sea, boats and any kind of winter weather!_ Let me know when we come across something you do like!"

"Apart from riding machines, you mean?" Jess grinned at him, then gave him a long look and added softly, "I quite like relay stations."

"But not fencing, so good job there's none here."

This was true. There was no division between the sea and the polar landscape. And beyond that … Slim gave a gasp: "A Roman hippodrome! Chariot racing!"

Jess commented caustically that he was glad Slim recognised it, but, unless they could rustle some of the horses careering round it, this knowledge was not likely to be very useful. "And I bet if we get down there, there won't be a single horse in sight!" he added shrewdly.

They turned slowly round the circle, viewing scene after scene from what were distinct and separate worlds, none of which seemed to connect with their own. It was only when they had completed an entire 360 degree review they saw that the jumble of possibilities went on changing. Where the sea had been, they were now looking at a vast battlefield, traversed by long lines of trenches and embankments, the air clouded and dim with the smoke of munitions.

"Well, we've been there," Jess said decisively, "and I ain't never goin' there again unless someone hog-ties and drags me!"

"I don't think it's our war," Slim told him. "The uniforms and the weapons are wrong for one thing. But I agree – war's never a good solution to any problem. And it certainly doesn't help us with understanding what this place is."

"It's a circle … a bowl … a glass dome over something -" Jess was thinking aloud to himself as he gazed at the horizon. "If it's a dome …" His eyes lit up and he grinned with satisfaction. "I've got an idea. Watch where I go!"

"Jess, hold on!" Slim knew only too well what Jess's ideas usually led to, but, as usual, he was too late. Jess made a dash for the stairs, which, to his immense surprise, had disappeared completely. In their place was a gaping hatch with a long brass pole running up the centre of it. It was only by instinctive reflex that Jess jumped and flung his arms and legs round this. He found himself back in the square rather quicker than he had anticipated.

From the square, he back-tracked along the first street they had entered until he came to the General Store. Ruthless in pursuit of his aim, he walked in through the door and straight out through the back wall, which proved to be less than substantial. As he had expected, he found himself standing not in another street, but in a long, dimly lit corridor. On the side in which he had broken the hole, there were only the backs of the buildings, which looked almost indecent, like sleepers caught in a state of undress - unpainted wood, dusty brick-work, some adobe and plaster, timber frames with canvas infill – which confirmed the state of unreality that had plagued him all morning.

On the opposite side, the corridor was entirely different. A long, smooth wall curved away in both directions as far as the eye could see. It appeared to be made of metal and shone with a dull glimmer. The light was coming from strips in the curved ceiling overhead. The wall was unbroken except about 20 feet away, where the vista was interrupted by a short side corridor which led to a single, circular door with a round, red handle in the middle.

Jess gave a grunt of satisfaction, his hunch justified. Whatever was trapping them, this was the outside wall and in front of him was an exit. As a wise man once pointed out, humanity cannot resist fiddling with obviously forbidden knobs, levers, handles and anything else that is guaranteed to move when you pull, push, twist or thump it. Jess was no exception.

What happened next seemed to everyone involved to happen in slow motion. Jess strode up to the door, entirely intent on ridding himself of the hideous sense of claustrophobia which he had been suppressing in the depths of his mind for so many hours. But it has to be said that even without this, he would have tried to open the door. Red is such an inviting colour. The knob did not turn or pull or push, so finding this of no avail, he opted for giving it a sharp blow with the edge of his hand.

The door began slowly to open. What Jess saw made him clutch the red knob in stupefaction and then in terror. In doing so, he slowed the opening of the massive circular metal plate and contributed to his own survival. But, as the door opened, its huge weight pulled him inexorably after it. His feet left the floor of the corridor and he found himself dangling by one hand over an infinite abyss. In situations like this, there was only one thing to do.

"Slim!" he yelled with all his strength.

"Where are you?" Slim's voice echoed from somewhere behind him.

Jess was conscious that the breath was leaving his lungs and nothing was coming in. With almost his last gasp, he put the fingers of his free hand to his mouth and gave the piercing whistle he used to summon Traveller in an emergency. Then he felt his other hand slipping and his body, curiously weightless, began floating slowly out of the door into the vastness beyond. Everything was blue-black and the stars so close they looked like great fiery flowers strewn across an endless plain. They pulsed as if they were beckoning and Jess was slowly floating into their domain.

He owed his life to the fact that Slim was far too much of a worrier to stand around watching him from the tower and had arrived post haste in the square only a minute or so behind him. He burst into the corridor at a flat-out run and just managed to duck under an inner steel door which was descending from the ceiling to seal off the corridor. Slim made a lightning assessment of the situation. It was, after all, not so very different from dealing with a steer which had fallen into a flooded river or a stampeding stallion heading straight into a ravine. In fact, it was easier in some ways, because everything was happening at an almost leisurely pace. He flipped a loop of his rope-end round the door-knob, which provided the only possible means of anchorage, and almost in the same movement, threw and lassoed the drifting man. For an expert such as he was, it was no big deal. Even pulling Jess in did not take much effort because there was no resistance to stop him.

It was only seconds until he was able to grab Jess by the shoulders and lift him back into the corridor. Then, aware that he was beginning to feel dizzy and disorientated, he pulled on the other end of the rope. The outer door shut with a clang. The inner door began to retract into the ceiling again.

Immediately Slim felt better. The horrible sucking sensation that had been attacking his lungs stopped and he was able to breathe as normally as anyone who has just had a considerable physical and emotional shock. He turned his attention to Jess.

There was no movement at all in the body lying limply on the corridor floor. Slim dropped to his knees and felt frantically for a pulse at the base of Jess's throat. It was there, but very faint, rapid and irregular and, even as he felt it, it seemed to falter. Jess's lips were turning blue and his skin had become unbelievably clammy in so short a time. He was not breathing at all.

Slim fought down a wave of panic and tried to remember all he had ever been taught or observed about getting dead bodies to breathe again. He rolled Jess over onto his stomach and turned his head so that his mouth and throat were unrestricted. He began to use his full weight to pump the lean ribs and force the lungs to work.

"Hold on! Jess, you've got to hold on! Breathe, damn you! BREATHE!"

It was no use. Lungs cannot breathe when there is no air in them and Jess had spent his last in that final appeal. Slim sat back on his heels, conscious he was panting with exertion and frustration. He had plenty enough air in his own lungs. Why the hell couldn't it be in Jess's instead?

He made himself keep calm and think rationally. If helping the lungs to function did not work, there was only one other procedure which he had ever heard of. Jess must have air to breath. If he didn't, he would die. That was all there was to it and the devil take any consequences which might result. Slim rolled the younger man over onto his back again and put both hands on his face, tipping his head back and forcing his mouth open. He drew a deep breath –


	7. Chapter 7

' _Hold on, you've got to hold on.  
If nothing is real, I know how it feels, yes I do …'  
J. J. Cale_

 **7**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _That was close._

 _Yes, the dark one was working out far too much about this installation. Our concealment was almost breached. It was necessary to instil some sense of human limitations._

 _And you consider the garbage air-lock a fair means? You exceed your parametres!_

 _He said he was afraid of heights. Something drastic was needed in order to deter him from too much exploration._

 _And what about the effect on the other one?_

 _He is quite quick-thinking and efficient for such a primitive example of the species._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

It is unnecessary to divulge further details of Jess's return to life, since both participants in the procedure in question would devoutly wish for those few minutes to be permanently hidden in the decent obscurity of history.

This is, of course, not entirely possible to accomplish as, no doubt, scan-records exist in the _CTRRTTC_ archives and can be accessed by those who are lacking either in sufficient medical knowledge or just in imagination. Certainly, however, the redactors erased Jess's immediate reaction on regaining consciousness, not because they understood the meaning of the words he was spitting out, but because extreme profanity is recognisable without translation. Slim greeted this unappreciative response to his personal sacrifice of his dignity (and possibly his principles) with an uncharacteristic use of equally strong language, calling Jess (roughly translated into Pan-Galactic) "an ungrateful misbegotten son of a female Texan herd-dog of dubious moral habits."

At this point, recorded footage indicates that they were exhausted to such an extent by the recent crisis, its solution and their subsequent reactions, that both of them appeared to have collapsed, semi-conscious, propped up against each other and the alcove wall.

Appearances are not always a good indication of facts. Jess certainly was more or less out for the count, trying to relax his tortured ribs and wondering if his lungs would ever function normally again, with or without any extra assistance. The shock of being pulled back so abruptly from the brink of death was one he never wanted to repeat and he was uncomfortably aware that his first reaction had hardly been polite – or friendly – or thankful. After all, he had yelled for Slim to rescue him, so he had no cause to complain about his methods of doing so. It was another one of those instances where Jess profoundly wished he had the opportunity to start over again and do things differently. _Maybe if he gave in to this overwhelming urge to sleep and woke up again_ … he shifted with great difficulty and tried to prop himself up somehow against the wall, but it proved too much for him. His whole upper body was painfully determined to remain horizontal and to avoid the stress of having to support itself. He slid back down and, finding his head comfortably resting against someone else's ribs, abandoned any attempt to stay awake and sort out his feelings. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

Slim opened his eyes relatively quickly, that realising someone needed to keep watch and Jess was in no state to do anything of the kind. This was by far the most bizarre of the near death experiences from which he had had to rescue his reckless companion. The consequences were pretty confusing too. It was just typical of Jess's contradictory nature - incandescent with fury and threatening to tear you limb from limb one moment and casually using you as the nearest convenient pillow the next.

Now he was sleeping peacefully, completely trusting in Slim's protection. His face had lost the hectic flush of anger and chagrin which had swept over it at his resuscitation. He was still pale under his tan and somehow looked much more vulnerable than he had when he was actually in danger of dying. Looking down at him, Slim was acutely conscious of the vivid physical presence so nearly snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Jess's hair was seriously dishevelled and one lock flopped predictably across his forehead. Sleep ironed out the tension which had hardened the lean planes of his face when wrestling with the problems of the morning and, as always, showed how young he really was. As well as the cut and bruised cheekbone from his fall in the yard, a bright trickle of fresh blood ran from his bottom lip where he had bitten it to keep back the scream that would have wasted his last vestiges of breath.

Slim shifted cautiously so as not to disturb him and extracted his clean handkerchief from his pocket. If this didn't count as "something worse later on", he didn't know what did. Even more cautiously and gently, in the same way he would have mopped up a much younger brother, he began to wipe the blood from the sleeper's mouth and clean the trail which was tricking down over the angular plane of his jaw and beginning to collect in the hollow of his throat. If a split lip was the worst that Jess was going to take away from this experience, he was one very lucky Texan – but then, he always did have the devil's own luck at getting out of situations he had no business surviving. It did not occur to Slim's generous nature to take credit for his own contribution to this phenomenon.

The touch of the handkerchief obviously tickled, because Jess muttered protestingly and tried to turn his head away, before sighing and burrowing even further into this comfortable rest. "Wake me up when it's all over …" Slim smoothed the hair back from his forehead, wondering anxiously if this uncharacteristic relaxation was the result of concussion, but found no evidence any damage to one very hard skull. So he contented himself with providing a supporting hand for the sleeping head. Inaction after stress caused his own to begin to nod all too quickly.

Actually, even accustomed as they both were to sleeping on the ground, they soon found that the corridor floor beat a rock-face for hardness and was not really conducive to prolonged slumber. Not long after, Slim found himself looking down into a pair of blue eyes now darkened by an expression which was full of penitence and a deep, thankful appreciation. It was clear that Jess regretted his initial response and intended to make up for it.

"No I don't," Slim told him softly before Jess could utter a word of whatever he was obviously preparing to say.

"Don't what?"

"Don't get tired of hauling you out of scrapes. Think how boring my life was before you came along with your talent for close encounters with the Grim Reaper!"

"And because of you, I'm still alive," Jess's tone was even lower and more gravely than usual. He rolled over on to his knees and gripped Slim's shoulders in a fierce hold. "I owe you!"

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. "There was no doubting the sincerity of this declaration. Then a mischievous grin suddenly transformed Jess's face. "And if you ever pull that trick again without a beautiful female assistant standin' by to do it for you, so help me, you know exactly what I'll do to you!"

"I'll bear that in mind," Slim assured him gravely. "Provided, of course, you give me your absolute word it _will_ never, ever happen again. Otherwise, you'll just take what's coming to you!"

"You reckon?" Jess realised he was losing this one and abandoned the subject with a shrug of dismissal. He got gingerly to his feet, pushing off the wall as if daring Slim to help him. Then he looked back, for the first time, at the door. "Did you see that? See what was out there?"

"Yes. And, if you don't mind, I think I'd like hold on for the next part of this conversation until we're somewhere much further away from it."

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _I had forgotten that these creatures also need to breathe._

 _As has been amply demonstrated. Be more careful next time._

 _Every test must involve risk if anything of value is to be demonstrated._

 _In this case, the value of the care which has been demonstrated appears to outweigh the danger to life._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

They strolled back through the hole in the wall, the general store and the repetitive street, ending up yet again at the town square. For want of a better place, they went back to the lean-to cantina and sat down at the table. Slim regarded the still empty wine jar with disgust. Jess was busy rolling himself a cigarette.

"Are you sure filling your lungs with smoke is a good idea after what just happened?" Having recently restored these organs to healthy functioning, Slim took a keen interest in keeping them that way and, besides, his instinct to look after everyone, however maddening, was still operating over-time.

Jess gave him a long look, before saying, with just a hint of that lop-sided smile of his, "I prefer it to some other options." He bent his head and struck a match. It promptly went out.

Five dud matches later Jess was showing marked signs of nicotine deprivation. Added to lack of caffeine and any form of sustenance, this did not auger well. He got up and looked around. Obviously coming to a decision, he walked out into the square and addressed his next remark to the bell tower.

"If I don't get a smoke right now, I'm comin' up there to start pullin' wires out of things – includin' you!"

Whether or not he could actually have carried out this threat was never to be revealed, since his next attempt at lighting up was entirely successful. He sat down, tilted his chair back and put his feet on the low wall which formed the front of the cantina. A cloud of aromatic blue smoke drifted in the direction of the bell tower. Jess looked as if he was enjoying that cigarette and the implied triumph very much indeed.

"They're nearly double your size," Slim reminded him. "Clawed hands, too."

"There wasn't room for even one critter that size in that room," Jess stated, "and I don't recall bumpin' into him."

"No – but there was something, wasn't there?"

"Two somethings, unless I'm very much mistaken!" Jess's eyes gleamed with sardonic amusement. "Very keen to get out of your way, they were."

"You spotted their camouflage too?"

"Yeah. Like I said, little critters with big hands. Or possibly little machines? And they obviously don't think much of our tracking. Dust everywhere - and handprints, but no footmarks. Of course, they might be floatin'."

"Unlikely, I'd say." Slim said, adding: "It was the position of the spider's web which really gave it away."

"Shows they don't know much about livin' things." Jess's expression had darkened and it was clear that the death of the bird still rankled.

"And judging by the mixture of unrelated backgrounds, they're probably not very much in control either." Slim suggested.

"Good!" Jess retorted. "I'm sick of jumpin' through hoops for them. This is some kind of game - the kind of game Carlin would find amusin'."

Slim rubbed his jaw reminiscently, recalling a punch whose power had been quite unexpected from the light-weight he thought was facing him. "Yeah, I knew it reminded me of something."

"Only Carlin couldn't mess with your mind or your memory!"

"So what next?"

"Nothin'!"

Slim looked at him enquiringly and Jess amplified: "I ain't doin' anything or goin' anywhere just because someone's tryin' to make me!"

 _No surprises there, then,_ Slim thought, recalling numerous instances in the past when Jess's stubbornness had wreaked havoc with the best-laid plans designed to persuade, deceive or coerce him. "So we just sit here?"

"Yep. Let them work out what to do next. If we don't move, they'll have to do something!"


	8. Chapter 8

' _Hold on, when everything is gone.  
I know how it feels to get a dirty deal, I do.'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **8**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _This is impossible._

 _You could hit a random key and see what happens. After all, the programme is self-sustaining._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

A flight of doves drifted across the square and settled on the roof of the church. Time continued not to pass. They continued to sit peacefully in the cantina, though it could not be said that either of them actually relaxed. Jess went on smoking with evident enjoyment. Slim succumbed to a fleeting wish, soon squashed by his principles, that he had the habit, since there was neither food nor drink to occupy the time.

Presently the ginger cat joined them, jumping up into Slim's lap as if it knew he needed something to occupy his hands. It embarked on one of those feline conversations, composed of squeaks, purrs and the occasional growl, which served to indicate the inferiority of human beings in the sphere of communication. "I wish you'd speak clearly, puss," Slim told it. "I guess you've been here long enough to see just about everything that could happen."

The cat stared at him with mad, amber eyes and something that might have been a grin seemed to cross its features once again. It began to purr like a water-mill in a flood stream. Purring, Slim knew, was often a sign not of pleasure, but of agitation, in cats.

"What's the matter?" He attempted to sooth the animal, but just got a savage scratch across the back of his hands for his pains. The cat jumped over the low wall and walked out into the square, waving its tail like a banner.

As it did so, a curious transformation came over the scene. Their breadth of vision seemed to narrow down until they could only focus on the area immediately round the cat, which was getting smaller and smaller. It was a most unpleasant feeling, like rushing down an ever-narrowing tunnel. Then everything suddenly expanded again and the square looked subtly different. They now seemed to be in a desert town, composed of narrow alleys and low, white buildings which had no windows and only sturdy metal doors visible on the street side. The church and bell-tower were no more, although there was still a well in the middle of the square.

A detachment of men dashed down the street, heading for the edge of the square where they established themselves in cover, for all the world as if they intended an ambush. They were dressed in white, but not in clothes. Their coverings were more like the armour which Slim had seen in illustrations of medieval knights. In addition, they had helmets which completely covered their heads so that they were looking out at the world through narrow slits.

"Ain't no way you can see what's goin' on wearin' one of those," Jess commented dismissively. If you couldn't maintain an all-round vision in a fight, you were going to be at a considerable disadvantage very shortly.

The fight appeared to be creeping up around the spectators, in the form of a small band of figures, clad in short grey cloaks and wearing some kind of forage cap, who had entered through the back door of the cantina and were now taking shelter behind the available furniture and walls. Slim was beginning to wonder whether Jess's idea about letting their hidden opponents take the initiative was about to land them both in even more trouble.

"Are we supposed to be on their side?" Jess was speculating, but before they had time to work this out, the grey squad made a break for the open and the fight was on. It was like no fight they'd ever seen. They watched, fascinated. The opposing sides were armed with guns, but, instead of bullets, these appeared to fire what looked like short bursts of lightning.

Slim clamped his hand down on Jess's shoulder - he could tell from the coiled-spring tension in him that he was just dying to get his hands on a weapon which worked. Just dying might be all too true, if he jumped into this one with his usual impetuous confidence, which was in no way diminished by his recent experience with the door.

Neither the white knights nor their grey-clad opponents seemed to be very good shots. Slim spotted several opportunities that were missed and, looking down, he could see Jess's thumbs were twitching with irritation and frustration at this incompetence. He tightened his hold on the Texan and said softly, "Now hold on! You are not going to join in!"

"Someone else is." Jess was looking away from the fight to where the second road led onto the square. Someone, or it might have been something, was indeed approaching. It resembled, at first sight, a tall, black triangle without legs or a visible face, but it strode rapidly towards the conflict in the square with a single-minded purpose that reminded Slim of Jess on one of his crazier crusades. As it neared, they could make out it was a human-shaped figure, clad in a long black cloak and wearing on its head some kind of helmet which reminded them both of nothing so much as a coal scuttle back home.

"Looks like you finally get to meet him!" Slim told Jess, with a vain attempt at humour.

"If that's the Grim Reaper, he's changed his head-gear!" Jess replied, unperturbed.

If it had been the GR himself, this entrance could not have made more impact. The reaction of the fighters in the square was surprising. There were horror-stricken cries of terror on both sides. The white knights all fell to their knees. The grey side threw down their weapons and bolted for cover, all save one brave soul, who stood their ground and faced what was obviously an approaching menace.

The black figure reached beneath his (or it's) cloak and produced something familiar, at any rate in the current situation.

"Do they all fight with sticks?" Jess asked in tones of disbelief.

This stick was clearly another one not to be tangled with. The black figure lifted it and there was a humming noise, followed by a long blade of light, for which the stick formed the handle. Before the grey-clad figure had a chance to move or even raise his weapon, the light-blade sliced through him more smoothly than the sharpest sabre. The man fell to the ground with cries of agony.

Slim and Jess looked at each other. Clearly in this situation, a sabre could out-gun a gun, a fact which made no logical sense to either of them.

While they were thinking this over, the black figure had turned its attention to the grovelling white knights. A voice echoed from the helmet, sounding like the cold rattle of stones before an avalanche. The reaction of the knights was much the same as if they had been threatened with being pounded to bits under tons of rock. They all backed off and pushed one of their number into the front line, as it were.

"Report!" the voice from the helmet demanded a second time.

The kneeling man began to babble frantically, so fast that no-one could easily make out his words. The black figure did not even bother to listen. It just reached down, took the man by the throat, shook him viciously and, with casual contempt, threw him away. He hit a wall on the opposite side of the square with a sickening crunch and did not move again.

Slim and Jess looked at each other a second time, a single thought in both their minds, although possibly expressed differently. Slim was fired by the injustice of what he had witnessed. Jess put it more practically to himself: _that bastard needs takin' down!_

The black figure, meanwhile, was laying around him with the light-blade, intend on driving out from hiding the rest of the grey-clad figures. One of these was retreating rapidly towards the cantina, but never made it before the humming weapon touched them. There was another shriek of pain and the injured fighter slumped to their knees. As they did so, their forage cap fell off, releasing a tumble of long, fair hair.

"It's a woman!" If nothing else had decided them both that neutrality was no longer an option, this did. Almost in unison, they vaulted over the wall.


	9. Chapter 9

' _Hold on, when everything is gone.  
I know how it feels to get a dirty deal, I do.'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **9**

 **CTRRTTC**

 _Any more bright ideas?_

 _It is a perfectly valid test._

 _It is a perfectly unequal contest!_

 _That does not seem to be bothering them!_

 **CTRRTTC**

Slim ran to the fallen woman, picked her up and sprinted back to the shelter of the cantina, where he deposited her safely behind the wall. Jess stalked out into the centre of the square. It was a position he was familiar with from many gun-fights and he looked entirely in charge of the situation, although there was absolutely no justification for this. He just felt a whole lot better in the middle of a fight.

"Hey, you!"

The black knight swung round in surprise at this mode of address and the unprecedented sight of someone standing calmly in such an exposed position instead of crawling into the nearest cover. This moment of hesitation was his undoing. With considerable force and accuracy, Jess flung the missile he had been concealing - the wine jug struck the helmet full on. It didn't do much damage, but it was sufficient to create a diversion and allow Slim to follow it up, wielding the table from the cantina. The table was solid and, although the light-blade would soon slice it to pieces, Slim was able to force the black figure back against the wall of one of the buildings.

At this point, they discovered one of the more disconcerting talents of their opponent. One moment he was standing facing Slim on one side of the square, the next he had made an extraordinary leap through the air, landing twenty feet away on top of pile of packing cases. It happened to be the pile behind which Jess had taken cover after his bare-faced bravado had paid off. He took the greatest pleasure in flinging his whole weight against the pile and toppling the king of the castle most successfully.

The black knight recovered in mid-air from his fall and hit the ground running – or rather striding at an alarmingly fast rate. He seemed to have entirely forgotten his original targets in what was obviously a growing rage against these unarmed opponents. Slim was directly in his sights, running with all the speed of his long legs for the cover of the well-head. Jess scrambled out of the pile of boxes and flung himself across the open space in a headlong dive. He just caught a flying foot and got a glancing kick in the face for his pains. The knight stumbled, sufficient to throw off his aim so that the blade demolished the bucket winch and not Slim. The next moment Slim had made another dash, heading this time for what was, or maybe had been, the Livery Stable, where he seemed to remember seeing one or two things that might be used as weapons. Perhaps it was his determination which redefined the environment around him, so that now it was half the desert oasis and half a western township.

Finding pursuit hard on his heels, Slim jinxed to one side, leading his follower into the café. He swept the food off the table in passing and, trusting in Jess's experience, burst his way through the back wall. His pursuer was momentarily swamped in descending harpies, but the light-blade was a forceful weapon in spheres which humans usually ignored or pretended did not exist. Slim ran on, following the perimeter corridor until he reckoned it was safe to emerge into the street once more.

He found immediately that he had miscalculated. He was nowhere near the Livery Stables but had emerged somehow from the saloon into an apparently deserted street. He leaned thankfully against the rail, listening for sounds of destruction from the café opposite and unaware that his opponent was only seconds behind him.

"Slim, look out, you durn'd fool!" Jess sprinted across the street and thundered down the board-walk. The black figure turned towards the sound of Jess's voice, only to find that he had disappeared from view. He swung back to the victim who was so much nearer to him, but this was also a miscalculation. Slim was a cavalry officer and had met with sabres in battle before. He knew the safest place was close up to the wielder and inside his reach. He made a lightning turn on his heel and lunged at his opponent, grappling him round the waist and sending him staggering backward towards the saloon porch.

Meanwhile, Jess had effectively disappeared by taking a leap up for the supporting beam of the porch, using it as a pivot for an almighty swing at the enemy. The next second his booted feet, powered by the full momentum of his run and of gravity, struck clean between the black helmet and the body armour. They hit the base of the neck, the only exposed spot, where Jess had learnt that you could knock a man cold with a single blow. It was also effective for strange black knights, whether human or not.

As the black figure toppled, the light-blade left his hand and went flying through the air. Instinctively Slim caught it by the handle before it could fall to the ground. A puzzled expression crossed his face, as if he had just connected with something entirely new and amazing. Then he pressed the button on the handle and the light-blade sank back into oblivion. He and Jess stood over the fallen figure, panting.

"Thanks!" They leant against the hitching rail together, momentarily weak with the effort expended in the fight and struggling with no little amusement at the outcome.

"I thought we were going to maintain an attitude of masterly inactivity?"

"Yeah, well – you never could resist a female in distress."

This earned Jess a few moments in a headlock while Slim administered a couple of retaliatory punches, after which he teased "And you never could resist a fight! Exactly what did you think you were doing in the middle of that square?"

"Just providin' a little provocation," Jess told him, grinning.

"Yeah – you do that all right!" Slim gave up the unequal struggle to keep a straight face and burst out laughing, because, despite the heart-stopping recklessness of his actions, Jess still managed to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "You are impossible!"

"I thought you just told me I was real?"

"That as well. Now just do me a favour, will you – try to stay alive and quit the death-defying actions for a while! I've had about enough scares for one day."

Jess looked at him carefully and decided this time it would not pay to rile Slim further. Besides, it felt good that someone minded whether he was alive or dead. His glance slid away, trying to conceal his emotions once again, and he ducked his head, this time in mock submission. Slim was not fooled by this, but reckoned it was the best he was going to achieve. He turned his attention to their prostrate enemy.

"His breathing doesn't sound right."

"I didn't hit him that hard," Jess protested.

"Better get this helmet off and have a look at him."

Several screws and some heaving later, they looked. The heaving which happened next was purely visceral.

"Better put it back? He looks like he might need it."

"He looks as if he might need a hospital."

"Yeah – or a competent doctor, which ain't either of us."

"Stay with him a minute, I want to take a look at the others." Slim disappeared in the direction of the square, leaving Jess wondering exactly how he was intended to deal with seven feet of angry and possibly mythological enemy, should he come round.

When Slim returned, he was carrying the woman, who was still unconscious. He looked very puzzled.

"What's up?"

"There's no-one else there. I could have sworn that at least two people got killed and more injured, but there's no sign of anyone."

"Maybe the rest carried them off?"

"Then why leave her?"

Jess shook his head in disbelief and said, "Who knows? They're the first people we've met in this place –"

"If they are people?" Slim sounded deeply worried. He laid the woman down gently. "Feel her pulse." When Jess did so, he too looked very worried. There was no pulse, yet the woman did not appear to be dead.

"She's still breathin'. Saves you from any more –"

"Shut up, will you, I'm trying to think!" Slim flushed and bent over the unconscious woman. He tried unsuccessfully to raise one of her closed eyelids. Then he looked closely at her hands and put his own hand on her forehead. After this he sat back on his heels and said unsteadily, "There's no reflex twitch in the eyelid. There are no veins in the hand. That's not skin."

"Not skin?" Jess stretched out a tentative finger and touched the pale cheek very gently. "No, I see what you mean – kind of … slick." He gave an involuntary shudder.

"And she looks … shut down, like machinery that's just idling," Slim said. He thought some more and added, "Ok, so here we have two bodies, in need of some kind of attention, even if they aren't people. What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we should just leave them be?" Slim could tell from Jess's tone he didn't much like this suggestion, even as he made it. "Everything else seems to get tidied up somehow."

Slim shook his head. "We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you know full well it isn't the kind of thing we do." He paused a moment to let this sink in. Jess nodded slowly, and then developed the assessment by pointing out: "All morning we've been doin' the kind of things we do, the way we do them."

"You can say that again!" A brief grin flashed across Slim's face as he reviewed the things which had happened and particularly Jess's part in them. "What was it you said about not doing things because someone was trying to make you? Well, I think you're right. Someone is trying to push us into situations to see how we'll cope with them. This is just a temptation to take the easy way out."

Jess suppressed a sigh. When Slim was bent on an honourable course of action, it generally meant a deal more effort and trouble than simply reacting with your guts. At the same time, it made him smile inwardly and with no little admiration, at least until he heard Slim's next instruction: "Find a wheelbarrow!"

"What?"

"A wheelbarrow. In the stable yard. To push the body in."

Thus unmistakably instructed, Jess found himself, a short while later, pushing a remarkably heavy black knight down the street, while Slim followed, carrying the woman.

"Why're we goin' this way?"

"There's no hospital or doctor here. We'll try the next place."

They went through the barn and across the strange yard. Jess was sorely tempted to see if he couldn't load his burden on to the black machine, but, Slim, catching that wistful puppy look again, glared at him. Jess kept on pushing.

There was a gap in the wall behind, leading to a smooth grey road which rose over a long bridge and then dipped towards the tall buildings. Jess paused to get his breath when they reached the top of the bridge and fished his gloves out of his jacket pocket, as the wheelbarrow and its load were in danger of raising blisters. At the other end of the bridge was a long white building, with a flight of steps sweeping up to the door, but also a curving, sloping ramp, clearly built to take wheels. Above the door they saw the familiar red cross.

"That's a relief!" They staggered up the ramp and found themselves faced with huge doors, apparently made of glass. Inside there seemed to be vague, hurrying figures, like white ghosts. Jess was looking more and more uneasy, despite the prospect of getting rid of the wheelbarrow and its contents. Slim was too occupied with his own burden to take much notice of this.

As they approached the doors, they slide silently back into the wall in a most unexpected fashion. They pushed on into the building and found themselves in a huge hall. It had a large circular desk in the centre and a number of corridors leading off it. Between the corridors the space was filled with rows of coloured chairs, each block a different colour, which looked as though they should be filled with waiting people. There was no-one there. The white ghosts had completely disappeared.

Jess seemed to pull himself together with no little effort. He lowered the wheelbarrow and looked around, then strode swiftly into one of the side corridors and returned pulling a wheeled bed behind him. He gestured to Slim to put the woman down on it and, when he had done so, lifted and clicked into place the side-bars which would prevent her from falling off.

"How did you know how to do that?"

Jess ran a worried hand through his hair. They had both lost their hats some time before in the fight. "It's obvious, isn't it?" He fetched another wheeled bed and they lifted the second body on to it with much effort. The knight was too tall and his legs hung uncomfortably over the end, but he still showed no signs of stirring.

"I didn't kick him that hard!" Jess reiterated defensively.

"No. Maybe you just hit some important connection in all the stuff inside."

"I hit where I was aimin' – the back of his neck." Jess's professional pride was insulted and he looked as if he was going to march straight out of the building then and there.

Slim caught his arm. "How do we get them help?"

"How do I know?"

"You do know." Slim waited expectantly. Jess turned on his heel and walked over to the central desk. He went behind it and stood looking at the lighted square frames on the front of several machines which stood on its surface.

"Is this an emergency?"

"I guess so." Slim looked over his shoulder and read on the bright, white background: 'To activate in case of emergency, press ENTER.'

"And we definitely want something active to happen?" When Slim nodded, Jess pointed down to the surface of the desk. A raised black board was covered with several rows of buttons, which were marked with letters, numbers and other symbols. On the right was one with the word 'Enter'. At another nod from Slim, he pressed it.

"C'm on. We've done the best we can. They can take it from here." Jess steered his companion and the wheelbarrow firmly out of the building and the glass doors closed behind them. They were quite unaware of the flashing lights, sprinklers and running white-coated figures that had erupted into chaos as they left the building.


	10. Chapter 10

' _Hold on, when everything is gone.  
I know how it feels to get a dirty deal, I do.'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **10**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _And that just proves they can read. Reading is not one of the skills the system is designed to test. Something provoking rapid response is required._

 _I think that may be forthcoming shortly. The system is beginning to respond in a manner suggesting a limited supply of patience._

 _Is that yours or mine?_

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

The wheelbarrow was duly returned to the Livery Stable. Slim and Jess leaned against the corral rail and noted, without surprise, that the machine they had immobilised was no longer there. Neither were the ropes, which Slim felt was a pity – they had proved useful in more ways than one. Jess rubbed his forehead with his sleeve and ran his hand through his hair again, which merely served to redistribute the amount of dust decorating him.

"I sure could use a beer or something. All this runnin' around and wheelin' people about has finally got me as dry as a gulch in summer."

"Me too. And I'm wondering why."

"Why what?"

"Why we didn't feel thirsty before and now we do."

"You mean the rules have changed? Maybe we might find something to eat?" A hopeful note had entered Jess's voice, soon to be dashed by Slim's reply.

"No. I think we are more likely to get eaten ourselves."

"You reckon?" Jess looked at Slim and then in the direction Slim was looking.

On the other side of the corral were more adobe buildings. There, on the closest white-washed wall, was a monstrous shadow. The armoured head with its array of jagged teeth was clearly outlined. The long neck and shoulders were full of savage power. The thing stood looming in the shadows, over-topping Slim's height by a considerable number of feet.

"Uh-huh! That does not look friendly."

"Don't look vegetarian, either!" was Jess's contribution.

Delicately, the creature minced out of the alley on splayed, clawed feet, poised to move swiftly at the slightest provocation. It walked erect on its hind legs and two short arms ended in formidable claws which looked big enough to grasp an unwary man's head.

"D'y think it's related to the other two critters?" Jess asked thoughtfully.

"Doesn't look like something which could operate a machine," Slim said briefly, his eyes glued on it. "This is a big lizard – I read they dug up bones of something like this in New Jersey, but some Englishman had already found one and called it a dinosaur, a terror lizard."

"In which case it definitely ain't real nowadays!" Jess sounded relieved.

"Here and now, it's real enough to do us a lot of damage!" Slim told him.

"Y' mean it's gonna try to live up to its name?" Jess eyed the creature with the attention he would normally accord to an approaching war-party.

This certainly appeared to be the creature's intention. They'd both been stalked by predators and could read the body language and the killing potential of this particular example, even if they couldn't identify exactly what it was.

The lizard made a noise which sounded like a cross between an angry cat and a very angry snake. Its forked tongue flickered in and out of its formidable jaws, as if it was tasting the air, and its head turned from side to side, sizing up the distance before it leapt on its prey.

"I don't think this one is going to be fooled by the opposite directions tactic," Slim said thoughtfully. "It's a hunter – by sight, smell and hearing. It'll go for whichever one of us looks weakest."

"Is that you or me?" Jess asked curiously.

"I don't think it's decided – yet."

"Probably go for you, then. You're bigger'n me. Make more of a meal."

Slim took a lightning glance round the yard, looking for something strong enough to make a respectable dent in a twelve foot armour-plated dinosaur.

"A rifle would come in right handy now," Jess observed. "Or better still, a Gatling gun."

"There isn't so much as an iron bar."

"Try this." A pitchfork was thrust into Slim's hands.

"Thanks a lot!" And then "Are you hiding behind me, Jess?"

"No. I'm very slowly retreatin' - just keep it occupied for a minute, well y'? And jump when I tell you!"

 _I bet I know what he's doing_! For a moment, Slim was so mad at Jess that he nearly took his attention off the big lizard. Maybe an all-out fight with it, when totally inadequately armed, was preferable to what was otherwise going to happen next. Slim, however, was blessed with more than his share of common sense and knew that in a contest of pitchfork versus dinosaur he was not going to be the winner. It looked as if Jess was going to get his own way after all.

Sure enough, a moment later, there was a throaty roar and the black machine burst round the corner of the barn and skidded to a halt next to him.

"Jump!"

Slim hurled the pitchfork as hard as he could and leapt onto the saddle, which was obviously designed to carry a passenger.

"Get y' long legs up!" Jess shouted at him as the contraption lurched into action, its power in no way diminished by another rider. Behind them there was an angry scream from the lizard and the sound of wood splintering as it demolished the pitchfork.

Unfortunately, far from doing it any damage, Slim's attack had only succeeded in enraging it further. It was unbelievably fast! Machine and riders just skated out from under its nose and tore away down the street towards the bridge and the strange city. Armed feet thudded after them and Slim could feel and smell the foul breath enveloping him, making him want to retch. The creature was gaining on them every moment it took to climb to the apex of the bridge and even on the down-slope they were not out-running it by very much. The road stretched ahead through tall buildings with wide intersections at frequent intervals, but no sign of any refuge capable of holding off their pursuer.

Jess suddenly yelled "Hold on!" and the machine made a violent swerve to the left, which did Slim's stomach no good at all. His arms flailed wildly as the machine hovered at an acute angle above the ground. There was nothing to hold on to – except Jess. Slim flung both arms round him and clung on for dear life. The machine resumed an upright position again as they hurled down a narrow alley. The lizard over-shot the opening and they gained a brief advantage, but not for long. In less than no time, it was after them again.

Slim wondered briefly how Jess was managing to make the machine go so fast, but his speculations were short-lived as the alley ended in a downward series of steps, from the top of which they left the ground and hurled into the air. Slim tightened his hold on Jess even more, feeling that, if they were going to die, they were at least going up some way towards heaven. He could see no reason why the Almighty should favour Jess's obsession with speed and power, but he prayed fervently for a safe landing anyway.

Prayers are sometimes granted. Machine and passengers hit the ground with a bone-shaking thump but undiminished speed. Slim risked a quick glance over his shoulder.

"How're we doin'?" Jess had obviously felt and correctly interpreted his movement.

"Well, it's not gaining."

"Good – then ease up a bit – you're stranglin' me!"

 _Not half as much as I'd like to!_ Slim thought grimly and somewhat ungratefully, since he would have been dinosaur-dinner without Jess's timely rescue. It was just too much that Jess was obviously enjoying the chase enormously and seemed to be plotting the most hair-raising course over and round obstacles for his own amusement, rather than just because it would lose the creature which was after them.

"Leggo!" Jess repeated. "I can't breathe."

"You're not the one with it breathing down your neck!"

"No – I've got you instead!" was the curt reply and Slim realised he had, indeed, a stranglehold round his companion's throat. He repositioned his left arm and grabbed Jess's shoulder instead. This earned him a blistering rebuke for interfering with his rescuer's ability to steer accurately.

"Well what do you want me to hold on to?" Slim demanded irritably as the machine executed another swerve and headed directly for a building with wide glass doors like the hospital ones. "Look out!" He ducked involuntarily, at the same time answering his own question by swiftly flinging both arms round the narrow waist in front of him.

"If outside won't shake it, let's try inside!" Jess yelled as the doors sprang open without anyone touching them. They continued their uninterrupted progress down a narrow corridor between shelves stacked high with what appeared to be things for sale. It would have been fascinating, had they not been travelling at such a speed, pursued by an angry dinosaur.

At the end of the corridor, Jess executed a 180 degree turn and tore back up the next aisle. It was a mistake. The dinosaur had no sensitivity at all to retail ambience and simply ploughed through the dividing wall of goods, sending tins and bottles cascading everywhere. Luckily this literally proved its downfall, as the footing beneath its claws rolled in every direction and it crashed unceremoniously to the floor, demolishing the shelves on the other side of the aisle rather conclusively. The machine and its riders continued a triumphal, not to say relieved, course towards the doors.

"Time to go home!" Jess pointed the machine at the road leading to the bridge and extracted the maximum power from it. The wind screeched through their hair and the air throbbed with unleashed power as they roared up the smooth surface, gaining speed with every second. In next to no time, they were back in the familiar square below the bell tower. The dinosaur was nowhere in sight.

The throaty roar of the engine died away to a murmur and the machine glided to a halt. Jess's own husky tones dropped to a lower volume, as he swung round the machine to face the way they had come. "You can let go for a minute." He sounded mightily amused.

Slim released his clasp abruptly and asked, "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Know how to make it go faster or slower." He was not at all sure that it wasn't some kind of built-in instinct operating between Jess and the machine.

The Texan turned a little in the saddle, a smile of ironic surprise twitching his lips. "It's easy!" He pointed to one of the levers on the front bar marked 1 to 5. "You just push it up for more power."

"So why have we stopped?"

"We can't go on harin' around like this for ever. For one thing, this machine'll run out of fuel sooner or later."

"I thought you were enjoying yourself?" Slim commented bitterly. "It must be really nice to have something chasing you so that you can try out its paces."

Jess smiled again. "I'd rather have a good horse! But we have to get rid of that critter once and for all, so here's what we're gonna do …"

Several minutes later, Slim said "You're mad!"

"No, like you said, I'm realistic. But you're the one who has the real risk in this – if you don't wanna do it, we'll think of another way."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Never thought you were. Only you're better at judgin' how my ideas are likely to turn out." This was a considerable admission on Jess's part and, if Slim had still been holding on to him, he would have been sorely tempted to administer an appreciative hug. But there was no time, as right then the dinosaur hove into view in the distance. It was still travelling extremely fast.

Slim reviewed the possible options rapidly and made up his mind. "Let's do it!"

Jess revved up the machine again and circled the square gently, keeping his eye on the approaching creature. "Need to let it think it's goin' to get us."

"I know," Slim agreed, "but keep it from getting any closer to my neck than it did last time, will you?"

"Just hold on!" Jess let go of the handle bar for a moment and gave the arms wound round his waist an encouraging thump. The machine shot forward and the lizard, predictably, raced after it. They went twice round the square before the creature worked out that it was running round in circles without catching anything. As it changed its tactics and lunged across the width, Jess pulled a highly successful swivel turn, wrong-footing the lizard once more, and headed back up the familiar street with the General Store.

This was his objective. Without pausing, he directed the machine in through the door and out through the hole in the back wall, taking more of the fabric with them. As he turned towards the recess in which the outer door was located, he slowed so that Slim could jump off. Then he rode a little further up the corridor and turned the machine to face the way the dinosaur must come. Slim flattened himself against the wall of the recess, close to the door, and kept absolutely still.

The big lizard burst through the back wall of the store, rocking the whole structure with the force of its weight. In the confines of the corridor it looked even bigger and there was no doubting its vicious power. Its head swung from side to side, the little eyes scanning the area, and its nostrils flared, searching for the scent of its prey. They heard again the hissing yowl of its hunting call.

Jess revved the engine loudly as if issuing a counter-challenge and turned the machine in a tight circle. The movement inevitably caught the creature's attention. It had obviously identified the annoying buzzing object with its living cargo as its prime target and ignored everything else, which enabled Slim to breath more freely again. Nonetheless, he was horribly vulnerable against the bare wall with nothing whatsoever to defend himself except the rope which was still hitched to the door-handle.

They both saw the clawed feet of the dinosaur dig into the floor as it tensed itself for a final, killing attack. The instant it began to move, Jess pushed the machine into its fastest speed and hurled towards the creature, which clearly had not expected any form of frontal attack. As it hesitated before the door, Jess turned the front wheel at right angles and let the body of the machine skid with all its force into the lizard.

"Now!" Jess jumped clear and Slim hit the red handle. The door opened and the dinosaur, bowled over by the impact of the machine, was flung outwards. As soon as it was past the opening, Slim hauled on the rope and the door shut with a decisive clang.


	11. Chapter 11

' _Hold on, when everything is gone.  
I know how it feels to get a dirty deal, I do.'_

 _J. J. Cale_

 **11**

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _Accounts are not going to be pleased at the rate of loss and damage to specimens! Some of them are irreplaceable._

 _It was your idea to show him where the door was._

 _And he should not even be able to ride that machine._

 _I gather a horse is much more difficult to control._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

The diving jump and roll brought Jess right up against Slim and the door. He was on his feet in an instant, looking shaken and relieved at the same time. His face was pale and his breathing hitched as he took in the fact that the door had closed and their plan had succeeded.

"You alright?" Slim asked.

"Yeah. You too?"

"And what were you going to do if I wasn't? Strangle it with your bare hands? You were supposed to jump the other way!" Slim's tone was rough with emotion and reflected yet another shock to his nervous system.

Jess flicked him a sideways look and muttered, "I owe you!"

"And I suppose you haven't been saving my skin for the last twenty minutes?"

"Hell, no – I was just along for the ride!"

They looked at each other and immediately looked away again, both trying to master the grins which were swamping the bickering - and failing utterly. There was only a step between them and the moment the gap was closed, they were both rocking with laughter and thumping each other on the back in a flood of relief at their narrow escape from what were literally the jaws of death.

"I might have known you'd make any excuse to get your own way!" Slim held Jess at arm's length and tried to glare at him with singular lack of success. "Do you ever take any notice of anything I say?"

Jess thought for a moment before he admitted truthfully: "Sometimes."

"Well, let me know when the next time is scheduled and I'll save my breath until then!"

"But you're always right." Jess gently disengaged himself from the shoulder-grip, strolled over to the machine and picked it up, inspecting it for damage. "Except about this, of course."

Slim gave up the unequal struggle at this point. There were some areas where the young Texan was completely impervious to reason, common sense or any idea of self-preservation. He guessed he would just have to live with it.

When Jess tried to start up the machine again, it gave a few feeble coughs and spluttered into silence. Slim made him push it all the way back to the Livery Stables.

This, combined with the anti-climax after ridding themselves of the dinosaur, was physically exhausting. No food and particularly the lack of a cooling pint of beer or a medicinal glass of whiskey added to their misery. The sun was now a hair's breadth from noon. There was very little shade, although they had retrieved their hats from the square. The air was thick and stale. The feeling that anything might at any moment jump out and set them off on another wild chase, fight or struggle was not a cheerful one.

"I wouldn't mind if there was some point to all this!" Jess grumbled. "I can take bein' scared out of my wits, shot at, suffocated, sliced with a sabre, chased, imprisoned and all this other stuff, if survivin' it actually achieves something."

Slim nodded in agreement. It was both frustrating and disheartening that they were no nearer finding a way out of their dilemma than they had been when they woke up. They seemed to have used a lot of energy and ingenuity without gaining any appreciable advantage. It was at this point, for some reason unexplained, that he put his hand into his vest pocket and said in puzzled tones, "What have I got in my pocket?"

Jess looked at him in surprise. "Is this some kind of guessin' game to pass away the time?" he demanded, but, willing to be co-operative, began: "String, fluff, the odd coin, a couple of coffee beans, handkerchief – now rather bloody for some reason – a letter from …" Seeing Slim was about to grab him again and administer some more retribution, he stopped and hastily dodged out of arm's length.

"No, I mean seriously – what's this doing in my pocket?" Slim withdrew his hand and opened his fingers. In his palm lay a plain gold ring.

Jess did not make any of the obvious jibes or try to get a rise out of him. His eyes narrowed and he stared at the ring as if it was about to explode. Slim did not like the look of it much, either, though he would have been hard-pressed to explain why. "I must have picked it up somewhere." His brow wrinkled with effort and he said, "In the café, I think."

Jess gave a non-committal grunt, the café not being one of his favourite locations. "We haven't picked up anything else," he pointed out cautiously.

"No. And I don't particularly want to carry this around with us." Slim's tone was definite and his expression grim. "After all, it isn't anything to do with us. It should be carried by …" A swift picture passed through his mind, leaving an unexpected impression and a sense of fellow-feeling, and was gone before he could finish speaking.

"Better hand it in to the Marshall's Office then," Jess suggested. "It looks … valuable. Someone's bound to be lookin' for it."

"There is a Marshall's Office?"

"Opposite the store."

"It would be!"

They trudged wearily back along the road, across the square and down the first street, to which they were beginning to take a hearty dislike. The office was unlocked, but there was, typically, no-one there. Jess checked out the cells for inhabitants but quickly reported back that there were none, unless they too were invisible.

Slim rummaged in the desk until he found a printed pad of lost property notices. He tore one off, returned the pad tidily and found a pen which worked. He sat down and began to fill in the details neatly and clearly. Then he placed the note in the middle of the desk with the ring on top.

"What next?" Jess was leaning against the unlit stove and watching him warily.

"More masterly inactivity, I think," Slim suggested. He stretched out in the chair, put his boots on the desk and heaved a weary sigh.

There was a loud 'miaow' and the ginger cat leapt up onto the stove. Jess regarded it balefully. "Oh, it's you again, is it? Well, we're not movin'."

The cat flicked its tail in his face and jumped from the stove to the desk. It advanced on the second human, purring like a steam train again. Slim licked the still sore scratches on the back of his hand and refrained from giving the animal any further chances to inflict additional damage on him. He yawned mightily. Jess was slumped against the stove, his arm round the pipe and his dark head resting uneasily against it – he was literally going to sleep on his feet. This seemed odd to Slim, but he was now so exhausted himself that he could not reason out what was bothering him. Soon the air was filled with the sound of gentle breathing. Regardless of the risk, both of them were totally, if not comfortably, asleep.

Outside, the sun had risen, finally, to the point of noon. A lone man walked slowly down the street in the direction of a railway station which had not existed a moment before.

On the desk, the ginger cat prowled round the ring and the 'lost and found' note:

Date: Today

Time: About noon

Place lost: Here

Place found: Unknown but presume local café

Description: Gold finger ring. No identifying markings. Will fit large finger (or maybe small?)

Notes: Last possessor – possible description: small, curly hair, startled eyes. Please return as soon as possible.

Signed: SS + JH

The cat's purring slowed to a steady hum and its grin got wider and wider as it paced in that circle. Ripples of light spread out from it, like a shaken curtain of silk or silvery water. The ripples pulsed and gradually enveloped the desk, the stove, the room – and its human inhabitants.

As the lonely man passed the Marshall's Office, he paused and looked in longingly, but there was no sign of anyone inside.

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _With two blunt knives, a few ropes and some domestic implements, they have managed to disrupt the entire programme!_

 _Yes – I always considered that you severely underestimated them._

 _ **CTRRTTC**_


	12. Chapter 12

" _Some bright morning, the sun will shine again,  
some bright morning, start all over again.  
Hold on, you've got to hold on.  
If nothing is real, I know how it feels, yes I do.  
Hold on, when everything is gone._

 _I know how it feels to get a dirty deal, I do"_

 _Hold on, J. J. Cale_

 **12**

EPILOGUE

Andy Sherman shifted uneasily in his chair and tried to concentrate. The ranch house was quiet, but his mind was not. The book he was reading, _From the Earth to the Moon_ , was like nothing he had ever read before and he found the ideas challenging and stimulating, but it was a book intended for adults and hard-going for a young boy. It seemed to him exactly like the kind of crazy idea Jess would get involved in. And that brought him right back to the worry which was so disturbing his concentration – where was Jess? Had he lit out on another of his wild adventures and had Slim gone after him? Andy had no fears that his big brother would return home, but huge doubts about whether Slim would be able to persuade, hog-tie or slug Jess in order to get him to do the same.

The evening had advanced way beyond supper time. In the kitchen, he could hear Jonesy banging pots and pans and muttering under his breath at the delay. He had been expecting the two younger men back long before this. Andy could just hear what he was saying and he sounded as mad as a wet hen.

"Danged if I should've let those two go scallywaggin' off together! Like as not they'll be back drunk as skunks, if that Texan had anythin' to do with it. He'll drink Slim under the table and then laugh and carry him home over his saddle bow - unless o' course it's the other way round. High time they was home anyways!"

At that precise moment, they both heard the sound of boots scuffling on the porch. Andy and Jonesy looked at each other in perplexity, for there had been none of the expected sounds which usually accompanied anyone arriving at the relay station.

Even though he was longing for Slim and Jess to return, Andy did not rush outside to see if it really was them at last. He had had essential safety precautions - like 'if you don't know who it is, don't stick your head out' - dinned into him often enough by both men. Jonesy picked up a rifle from the rack and motioned Andy away from the door. He looked cautiously out of the window and then gave a cackle of satisfaction: "It's them all right and I didn't hear no horses!" He put the rifle back, flung open the door and demanded without any greeting: "You two got so drunk this time you had t' walk home?"

Andy joined him in the doorway and looked out onto the porch. His elder brother was slumped in the rocking chair, his head in his hands. He did not look too well. Jess was leaning against the post of the porch, as he often did, but it was obviously only the support of it which was keeping him upright.

"You young idiots!" Jonesy yelled at them. "How many times d' you think my back is goin' t' stand puttin' the pair of you to bed?"

Jess gave a hollow laugh and pointed at Slim. "Just make sure he takes his boots off first. Seems like he ain't got the hang of it yet!"

"Why you drunken, good for nothin' young varmint!" Jonesy yelled at him, for he was always staunch in Slim's defence, even in the face of good evidence. To be fair, though, he'd be just as quick to take Jess's side if anyone else had the temerity to denigrate him. Worry and relief just meant he wasn't thinking too clearly this evening. He did not get far in his attack on Jess this time before Slim himself interrupted: "We're not drunk, Jonesy - smell my breath if you don't believe me."

"No thanks," Jonesy retorted shortly, glaring from one young man to the other.

Andy decided it was time to steer things into calmer waters. "How did you get here without us hearing you arrive?"

There was a millisecond of hesitation before Slim replied lightly: "We must have got off a stage ..."

"Yeah, without even botherin' to stop it," Jess agreed jokingly and a look flashed between the two of them. Andy knew they were both telling only a version of the truth, but before he had time to think about it, Jess continued: "Now, will y' all excuse me - there's something I need to check."

Before they could make any response, his gun leapt into his hand and he placed three bullets neatly into a knot-hole in one of the corral fence posts.

"Mind the livestock," Slim reminded him firmly, "unless you want to go back to making a living with that gun." Then, raising a querying eyebrow, he added with mock sympathy: "Feeling better now?"

"Just testin'," Jess grinned. He noticed that Slim had drawn his knife and was fingering it thoughtfully, so he warned: "Mind your artery this time."

Andy and Jonesy gazed at them in increasing bewilderment as Slim chuckled and remarked: "Hangover's nothing like as bad in reverse, is it?"

"Now look here, Slim," Jonesy erupted, "the hangover's what you two are goin' to get tomorrow mornin'."

Slim smiled at him and said with evident feeling, "I sincerely hope not, Jonesy!"

"You can't get a hangover the night before!" Jonesy was adamant.

"Believe me, you can get one without even drinking!"

"Cheaper, too." Jess clapped Jonesy on the shoulder and added with a laugh: "You should be glad I'm savin' him all that money!"

"Oh yeah? I bet whatever trouble you two have bin up to the ears in, it was you givin' the lead!" Jonesy's opinion was based on good experience, but Jess shook his head and laughed again: "Me? I was just followin' behind to pick up the pieces - as usual."

"Where _have_ you been, Jess?" Andy asked, sensing something which definitely wasn't being said and calculating that Jess was the one most likely to give him a plain answer.

"I'll tell you when I've figured it out, Tiger," Jess replied lightly. "But wherever it was, there's nothin' much to tell - it was quite boring."

Jonesy gave a final snort of disgust. "You mean you got so drunk you can't even remember what you've bin doin'? Come on, Andy - give me a hand dishin' up the supper these two have kept us waitin' for - if they're capable of eatin' anythin' in their condition." He was fairly sure by now that alcohol had had nothing to do with this strange situation, but was happy to keep up the pretence until someone saw fit to confide in him what had actually happened.

"I'd eat boiled horse-harness right now if you were cooking it," Slim told him with a truly affectionate smile.

"Maybe that's all you deserve!" Jonesy retorted.

"We deserve feedin' up," Jess protested. "Ain't had nothin' in... how long was it, Slim?"

"Feels like a week."

"Well you've only been gone twenty four hours, so you can't fool me you've starved in just a day," Jonesy asserted.

"You know Jess is always starving, Jonesy!" Slim ducked quickly as an insulted Jess aimed a cuff at his head. "Sure is good to be home, though!"

"You can say that again!" Jess agreed unexpectedly.

Andy was somewhat reassured by this, because you never really knew if Jess was going to admit he belonged or not. But there was a sudden stab of fear in his heart as he realised that, whatever had happened to the pair of them, it had been much more serious than they were letting on. He knew they could not have arrived back by any normal means other than walking - a method of progress they both avoided at all costs. There were deep scratches across the back of Slim's hands and Jess's face was cut and bruised. And he didn't believe the two of them had been drinking either, because, despite Jonesy's scolding, they were both thinking and speaking clearly enough. They just looked dead beat and totally relieved to be back on the porch once again.

As often before, Jess sensed his feelings and ruffled his hair teasingly before giving him a bear hug: "Quit worryin', Tiger - you're gettin' as bad as your big brother!"

Andy returned the hug with interest. "You're both home - that's what really matters."

Jess picked him up and swung him round in a dizzying circle before dumping him into Slim's lap. "One brother for you to get back to." He seemed to be quoting. Slim just held on to Andy, overwhelmed by the utter preciousness of what he might have lost. Then he looked up at Jess and, as their eyes met, something seemed to pass between them - a hunger, perhaps, for protecting and saving the really important things in life.

Jonesy, who had been watching this interaction with shrewd perception, realised that, despite their obvious pleasure in being reunited with Andy, there was still a high level of tension in both young men from whatever it was which had happened to them. Wisely figuring the best way to deal with this was to leave them in the security of familiar surroundings for a while, he issued his order again, but quietly this time: "C'm on, Andy. I guess they really do need feedin'. "

Andy administered an even stronger hug to his brother, then scrambled to his feet and followed Jonesy inside, leaving the two young men in possession of the peace and quiet of the porch.

Presently Andy brought out two mugs of coffee, the sight of which caused heartfelt thankfulness to Slim and instant appreciation from Jess: "At last! That is a life-saver!" Wherever they had been, he had clearly not been getting his accustomed quota of caffeine.

"Take care, Andy," Slim told his brother, "he'll think it's morning and be trying to wriggle out of the chores soon." Andy grinned, reassured that life was going to return to normal again. He took Jess's empty mug and brought out a refill, before going back to the kitchen to help Jonesy.

After this all was silent on the porch for a while as they drank the coffee. Jess was still leaning on the post. Presently Slim got up slowly from the rocker and came to stand behind Jess, as he often did, his hand on the upright, his arm almost but not quite around the younger man's shoulders.

Jess was staring up at the stars, his expression speculative and remote. He said softly, "It was like that, wasn't it? Through the door."

"Yes, it was." Slim let his hand drop to rest gently onto Jess's arm, sensing the memory of being so close to death was still with him.

They stood silently together for a long while. At last Jess sighed and said: "Beautiful, though!"

"They're just as beautiful from down here," Slim reminded him.

"Yeah, true - but I was thinkin' of that riding machine!"

"Well you can't have it!" Slim didn't know whether to administer a hug of consolation or a good shaking. "So don't go grieving your heart out over it."

"Maybe next time," Jess sounded surprisingly confident about this.

"What next time?" Slim was far from sanguine about the prospect. "Anyway, even if it does ever happen again, whoever is running that show will probably right now be making absolutely certain you can never ever start up one of those things again!" Slim was not too sure that, after such a hair-raising ride, this wasn't his own devout wish too.

"Oh, I don't think so!" An entirely unrepentant and totally gleeful grin transformed Jess's face as he fished in the pocket of his shirt. He pulled out a small metal key and dangled it under Slim's nose. "I ain't' givin' them the chance – I'm holdin' on to this!"

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

 _They should not have remembered._

 _Is it necessary to report all this to Higher Command?_

 _Too late. We are summoned to account for the deprogramming of the test system._

 _But it was all their fault!_

 _Is anyone going to believe that a team from such a primitive era could possibly have such capabilities and effect?_

 _No - not until next time!_

 _ **CTRRTTC**_

* * *

Acknowledgement: _For all chapters: The great creative writing of the 'Laramie' series is respectfully acknowledged. My stories are purely for pleasure and are inspired by the talents of the original authors, producers and actors._

Notes:

There are 30 references to texts other than the _Laramie_ canon in this story. I expect you spotted them all, but if you want to check, they are listed in order in the Appendix in the next chapter.

 **CTRRTTC** = Cross Temporal Rapid Reaction Team Testing Command

 _Now Get Out of That_ (1981–1984): can be found on Youtube - watch?v=a6kNOnipRws There's a character in this clip who should remind you of someone in some ways!

In 1841 British scientist Richard Owen came to realize that such fossils were distinct from the teeth or bones of any living creature. The ancient animals were so different, in fact, that they deserved their own name. So Owen dubbed the group "Dinosauria," which means "terrible lizards." Across the ocean in North America, dinosaur tracks were studied in the Connecticut Valley, beginning in the 1830's. A short two years later (in 1858), Leidy had the honor of describing the first reasonably complete dinosaur skeleton the world would know, _Hadrosaurus foulkii_. Named after its discoverer William Parker Foulke, this specimen was recovered during quarrying of a sand pit in Haddonfield, New Jersey. The real significance of this specimen was in its limb proportions. For the first time scientists studying these animals could see that some dinosaurs were bipedal, walking on two legs instead of on all fours. Bipedalism was a revolutionary thought for a reptilian posture.

 _From the Earth to the Moon_ is a novel by Jules Verne, published as _De la Terre à la Lune_ (1865) and also published as _The Baltimore Gun Club_ and _The American Gun Club_. Although the novel was subtitled _Trajet direct en 97 heures 20 minutes_ ("Direct Passage in Ninety-seven Hours and Twenty Minutes"), the actual journey to the Moon was depicted in the book's sequel, _Autour de la Lune_ (1870; _Round the Moon_ ). _From the Earth to the Moon_ concerns a group of obsessive American Civil War veterans, members of the Baltimore Gun Club, who conceive the idea of creating an enormous cannon in order to shoot a "space-bullet" to the Moon from a site in Florida.


	13. Chapter 13

**Appendix of Texts referred to:**

Wardrobe door _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ , C. S. Lewis

Spider _Arachnophobia_

Chimney climbing _The Night before Christmas_ , Clement Clarke Moore (Publ. 23rd December 1823) + Three Little Pigs fairy tale

Side-burns _Friendly Persuasion_

Red-painted town _High Plains Drifter_

Town square _Return of the Seven_

Ginger cat Crops up a lot in early episodes, but this one is related to the Cheshire Cat from _Alice in Wonderland_ , Lewis Carroll, with a brief reference to _Puss-in-Boots_ fairy tale

Locked room & rocking chair _The Woman in Black_ , Susan Hill (the book and play are much scarier than the movie!)

Harpies _The Aeneid_ , Virgil

The ring _The Hobbit_ , J. R. R. Tolkien

Porridge _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_ fairy tale

Motorcycle A nod to _The Hard Ride_ , but the bike itself is more of a cross between Tom Cruise's in the various _Mission Impossible_ films and _Robocop_.

Dalek _Dr Who_

The inescapable maze _Three Men in a Boat_ , Jerome K. Jerome

The control tower Modelled on the original Tardis from _Dr Who_ (admittedly it didn't have all round windows, though!)

Tall Ships _Pirates of the Caribbean_

Polar landscape _Scott of the Antarctic_

Chariot racing _Ben Hur_

1st WW battlefield _War Horse_ , Michael Morpurgo

Fire station pole _Where's that fire?_

The air lock _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , Douglas Adams

The red door-knob _Thief of Time_ , Terry Pratchett

Floating in space _Gravity_

The Grim Reaper Terry Pratchett and medieval myth

The time/space tunnel _Stargate_

White 'knights' etc. _Star Wars_

The hospital _Emergency_ , of course!

Dinosaur _Jurassic Park_

Gatling Gun RF's film of the same name

The railway station _High Noon_

The ripple gateway _Stargate_


End file.
